Things Fall Apart
by CharlotteCAgain
Summary: What do you do when someone mind-hijacks your kid? And what does a kid do when the scary voice in his head turns out to be all too real? Ben's downward spiral and his family's attempts to prevent it. Small personal moments, from different perspectives, make up a larger story. (FYI: Eventual Reylo elements; proceed according to your shipping preference.)
1. 1 - Circling

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

What do you do when someone mind-hijacks your kid? _What_ do you _do?_

* * *

LEIA

There had been an _incident._

It wasn't the first, but it was certainly the worst.

 _So far_ , she thought grimly.

Han was off on a mission, taking supplies to a forsaken planet that had been raided by one of the new groups that had arisen from the ashes of the Empire, excited at the possibility of having to run a blockade. Leia was doing what she always did – organizing, planning, leading in whatever capacity was required. Ben was ten, and was tired of sitting in his mother's office studying. So, Leia was thrilled when he struck up an acquaintance with her assistant's son, a nine year old with sandy hair and a portable Dekjarik board. For the past hour the boys had been playing together. She smiled. It was nice. Ben didn't have close friends, although he got along well enough with others. She assumed he got that from his father. Han was, for the most part, a loner. When she met him, he had only been close with Chewie. Later, he grew closer to her _(a lot closer…)_ and with Luke, but that had only happened as he grew older and committed to the rebellion almost by accident. As a natural leader who loved being with others and to whom people gravitated, Leia didn't quite understand that independent streak, but she respected it. Still, it was nice to see her son playing with a peer, nice to hear childish voices giggling, just out of view, under the open columned window that let in the soft breezes of Chandrila. She took a moment to relish it – the peace, the harmony – before she and her assistant returned to work, immersing themselves in the logistics of providing temporary housing for refugees from a world that had experienced a series of devastating earthquakes, almost forgetting the children in the next room until she heard raised voices – shrill and angry.

"You cheated!"

"Did not!"

Leia felt something – a shift, a coldness in the air – and she looked around the room, as if expecting some malevolent countenance to be hovering just behind her. She only saw the graceful, curving walls and comfortable, functional furnishings of the room. She smiled at her assistant, rising from her seat. "I should go check…"

"Did too! You can't make your Monnok only move two spaces. It has to move three." She heard a chair scrape against the floor, shoved violently back as someone _(Ben)_ stood up.

"Says who?"

"Says the _rules_!"

"Well, I didn't learn it that way. This is how I play, and I killed your Savrip, so I win anyway! I win, you lose! I win, you loooo…" The sandy-haired boy's taunting words were replaced by a gurgling sound.

Leia swept from behind her desk and into the room where the boys had been playing. The boy was gurgling softly, his eyes bulging, his face red. Her son was standing over him, his hand stretched out toward the boy, eyes glazed. Her blood turned to ice. This could go bad, so easily, so quickly. Calm, stay calm.

"Ben."

No response.

Calmer, softer still, reaching out with her voice and the Force. "Ben."

Still no response. His hand closed a fraction.

"Ben. Listen. It's Mommy."

He turned to look at her, then, the glazed look leaving his face.

"Ben. Let him go."

He looked at his red-faced opponent, his outstretched hand, and his eyes widened. He immediately dropped his hand, allowing the boy to slump into his chair and gulp in shuddering gasps of air. Ben stumbled back a few steps, blinking, lower lip quivering.

She walked over, touching his shoulder, trying to impart a sense of calm, before checking to make sure the other boy was okay and bundling him into his horrified father's arms, murmuring apologies and assurances…an accident, he doesn't realize how strong he is, sorry, so sorry…giving her assistant the rest of the day off, relieved when he took her up on it and left, still clearly shaken. It would take all her diplomatic skill to make that right. The politician in her was already figuring out how to mitigate the situation. Perhaps, if she offered him a transfer of his choosing and a substantial raise to entice him to take it… _Have I really become that cold and calculating?_ No, but she would do whatever it took to protect her son.

 _It won't be enough._ She shuddered; the thought hadn't come from her own mind.

She knelt in front Ben, leaned toward him, brushed his soft black hair out of his face and peered into his eyes. "What were you thinking?"

He shook his head. "I…I wasn't."

"How did you even know how to do that?"

"I dunno. Just…he was being a jerk and I got mad and I just…just did it."

She still felt it. That _presence_ that she had felt so many times before, grasping at her son. . She looked right, left, as if she actually expected to see something. Someone. But she knew what she felt wasn't in the room.

 _Get out! Go back to whatever foul, stench-soaked hole you crawled out of and leave him alone!_

She felt the consciousness withdraw – but not disappear entirely – and she sank to her knees, exhausted, and pulled Ben toward her, wrapping his thin shoulders in a tight embrace. Leia felt a single tear trickle down her cheek. She wasn't handling this. She had never trained, wasn't as connected to the Force as she could have been, and this presence was stronger than she had thought, slyer, more devious. And Ben – he was so much stronger than she was, so much stronger than he knew.

She needed help. She needed Luke.

* * *

 **A/N**

There's nothing I would like better than to see Leia belatedly embrace her Force powers, grab her Daddy's lightsaber and go take Snoke down. Hard. Or, you know, she could just borrow Rey's staff and smash his head like a melon (in a light-side-avenging-angel kind of way, of course), that'd be fine, too. But that's probably not going to happen.

This story sorta-kinda goes with my other one, "Lullaby", but this will be longer and broaden out to include other characters.

I didn't have a beta reader – I know how valuable that can be, having had one of the best beta readers ever in the past, but I'm so busy with real life that I'm happier just putting these out here like this – otherwise I'd never have time. So, please forgive any minor errors and point out any big ones so I can fix them.

I looked up the rules for Dejarik online; hope I got that part okay.

* * *

*The title is from the poem "Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats (as are most of the chapter titles):

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

My other story, 'Lullaby' is sort of a 'prequel' to this; I wrote it first and made it a one-shot and then realized I wanted to keep going. so if you want to see even younger Ben, that's what that one is about.

I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please review.


	2. 2 - Departure

Departure

BEN

Mommy and Uncle Luke were in the other room, talking. It was a conversation to which he had been politely _dis_ invited. The door had whooshed shut, and then something else had whooshed shut, cutting him off completely from his mother in a way that only happened when Mommy and Daddy were having their _[ewwwww]_ 'special private time'.

He didn't like it.

He was left alone with his own thoughts, and his thoughts were a jumble of chaos and emotion.

 _I messed up. Again. Somehow. I didn't mean to…really didn't…Iwinyoulose…mad-angry-hate…Force-pushing the chair across the room made that kid shut up, made him jump, felt better than good and then….red, blur, the Whisper Voice…Hold out your haaaand…ssssqueeze…do it…dooo iiiit…and then…a rush, like when Daddy did loops and rolls in the Falcon but_ _ **better**_ _…hot red power coursing through his very being, feeding itself, feeding him, growing and consuming him and then…Mommy calling his name, like she had been saying it for a while, and that look in her eyes [scared]…_

He flopped into a chair.

And now Mommy was sending him away _[but I don't wanna go don't wanna go don't wanna go…]_ and Daddy didn't even know about it so that meant it was so bad she wanted to _[get him out of the line of fire, so to speak. Han isn't likely to think first and I'm worried about how he might react…]_. That's what she had said when she had contacted Luke earlier that day. So that was pretty bad.

The doors whooshed open. Mommy and Uncle Luke were smiling too much, and their voices were too high, too chipper. He scowled. As if. As if he couldn't almost taste _[concernfearworrydesperation]._

He bit his lower lip. The Jedi Academy. Mommy and Daddy had been trying to convince him to go for years, and really, he wasn't even sure why he didn't want to. It actually sounded pretty awesome. But when he was almost convinced, there was something – a nagging bad feeling – that stopped him.

 _Well, I'm going now, bad feeling or not. Unless…_

He took a deep breath. "Mommy, listen. Listen, Mommy. I don't have to go to the Jedi Academy."

She narrowed her eyes. "Do not even _try_ it, Ben. We've talked about this before, and what happened yesterday is proof _[almost killed that little boy! Hush, Leia. He doesn't understand; doesn't even know what he's capable of…]._ You're so strong with the Force _[wild potential…light or dark]_ ; and you're so susceptible to…influences…you have to learn to control it, channel it, focus it. Otherwise it will control you _[HE will control you, take you to the Dark Side]_."

 _Who? Why?_

 _The Whisper Voice? How could Mommy know about that?_ He'd never let her know, because the Whisper Voice warned him not to, warned him that if he did, something TERRIBLE would happen to Mommy…the Whisper Voice was scary, but also, it always seemed to help him when he needed help most – when he was feeling out of control and chaotic and overwhelmed because this Force thing sometimes just sort of took OVER and it freaked him out a little. And besides, he couldn't block out the Whisper Voice. He had tried.

"But you can help me, Mommy…"

"I can't, Ben. I thought I could but I'm not trained _[failing, I'm failing]_. Uncle Luke is."

Ben glanced at his uncle from under shaggy black bangs. He didn't know him that well, since Luke was always at the Academy. Reaching out, he found openness _(intentional)_ , welcome, good intentions, kindness, peace and calm flowing from him. Uncle Luke was all light, pure and shining without even a crack to let the dark in. Ben knew he had cracks; how could someone without them teach him how to deal with it?

Uncle Luke put a hand on Ben's shoulder. It felt nice, like a warm blanket on a cold night. "I know you're hesitant about this, Ben. But I'm excited about having you at the Academy. You have so much potential; you can be a powerful Jedi, Ben. And, hey, you get to use light sabers." His smile was a warm summer day, and for a minute, Ben felt hopeful.

"And, sweetie, if you decide you don't want to be a Jedi Master, that's okay, too." This was Mommy. "I just think you need to get some control. But then, you can decide. Remember, Daddy already said the Millennium Falcon is yours when you grow up if you want it. Okay?"

He shuffled his feet. "Okay."

"Okay!" Luke said, holding out a hand. Ben took it, and Mommy took his other hand, and they walked like that all the way out to the flight line, where Luke's ship was waiting. The sun was setting, and the lingering light was warm and soft, like the breeze that ruffled Ben's hair and caressed his cheeks. Both moons were just rising, casting their own silvery light over everything. Mommy hugged Ben, tight, for a long time, and he didn't try to squirm away like he usually would have _[even though I'm too old for that mushy stuff]_.

"I'll miss you, sooooo much," she said. He let her smooth his hair and kiss his cheek. "Daddy and I will come visit as soon as we can _[as soon as Daddy cools off]_ and I'll send a hololetter every week _[and you better answer]._ I love you…so, so much. _[Please let me be doing the right thing. Please, please please.]_ " A tear rolled down her cheek.

He reached out and wiped it away. "Don't cry. Mommy. I'm going to learn to be a Jedi. I love you, too." He smiled and climbed into the ship.

* * *

OBI-WAN

Anakin Skywalker had been flinging himself at the barrier between the living and the dead for - well, time worked differently in the afterlife - but for a really, really long time. If he had still had a physical body, it would have been bruised and bloody. Despite having chosen the light at the end, he had not changed his basic personality, and he was, currently, a seething ball of frustration.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon watched, impressed by the sheer determination, _de_ pressed by the thorough lack of progress.

It took a few beats until they sensed Mace Windu behind them. It took another eternity for him to speak. "So, this guy..."

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Yeah. A valiant effort, yes?"

Mace frowned. "Hmmmf. So how long you guys gonna let that go on?"

It didn't sink in immediately, but it was Obi-wan who caught on first. "Wait – what?"

Mace focused on Obi-Wan. "He's still your padawan. Your responsibility." He eyed Qui-Gon, "And _he_ is _yours_. And do I need to remind you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, that _you're_ the one brought him in? You're not exactly without blame in all of _this_." He gestured broadly across the barrier. "I suggest you teach your student, and quickly, before things get worse. You don't want me to have to bring Yoda into this."

Obi-Wan sighed.

Mace turned to leave, but stopped as another thought occurred to him. "And knowing this guy, I'd suggest you also come up with a back-up plan.

So, apparently, now he was going to have to get _involved_. "Anakin _. Anakin_." It took several tries to get his student's attention. Finally, the young, whole version of himself that Anakin had settled on as his Force-ghost manifestation paused in his efforts and looked over his shoulder. Obi-Wan shook his head. "That isn't going to work."

Anakin scowled. "I have to _(fling)_ get through _(fling)._ She's making _(fling)_ a _mistake (harder fling)_ sending that boy away _(fling)."_

"Yes. I know. So we'll help you get through. But first you need to _calm down_."

Anakin flung himself against the barrier again.

Obi-Wan shook his head. _So, about that back-up plan._

* * *

LEIA

For the most part, dreams were not Leia's friends. They were a trip back to terror, torture, the destruction of her planet. They were harrowing visits to places she didn't want to go that she awoke from screaming and sweating. But that night, she dreamed about childbirth. Not about when she had Ben, and not that strange, almost-impossible memory of her own beautiful, kind, sad mother. This was another woman's labor and delivery. The woman was younger, unknown, vague and out of focus. But the baby – it was a girl, with wisps of brown hair and bright, curious eyes flecked with green and amber and blue that stared into hers with the intensity of a supernova. She awoke feeling inexplicably hopeful.

* * *

A/N

Next up: Han

*The title is from the poem "Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats.


	3. 3 - Apart

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

HAN

"YOU DID _WHAT_?!"

"As I explained already, I had Luke take Ben to the Jedi Academy because..."

"Just like that? Unilaterally? Did it occur to you that maybe, just _maybe_ , I'd like to have some say in the decision to send our son away for, I dunno, the rest of his life?"

"I didn't have time to discuss it in committee." She smiled sweetly.

"I'm not a committee, I'm his _father_. I'm half of his genes – and not the half that's causing problems, by the way."

"Oh, that's a fine load of nerf-crap, coming from a _criminal_."

" _Former_ criminal. And might I remind your, your Princessness, that when I met _you_ , you were trying to overthrow the government."

"The _evil_ government!"

"The evil government led by _your_ evil father!"

She cringed. "Why do you think I'm so worried? Do you think I _wanted_ to send him away?"

"I think you like to be in charge. Of everything. I think you just wanted to be the one to call the shots and you took the opportunity when I was gone to cut me out of the decision-making process about my own son!"

"How _dare_ you?" She demanded, hands on hips, face inches from his.

"How dare _you_?" He didn't back down.

"I dare because I have to. You don't understand the seriousness of this. He Force-choked that boy. That's a Dark power – a pretty advanced one. A favorite of," she hesitated, "Vader. He's _ten_. If he can do that at ten –" she shook her head, " I don't know how he was even able to…"

Han balled his hands into fists, exhaled and swore. "Fracking Force!"

Leia gasped. "HAN!"

He frowned and shook his head. "I mean it." He held out his arms and shouted at the universe at large, "FRACKING FORCE. I fracking hate you! Fracking leave my family alone!"

Leia's eyes were wide, scared. "Han, stop! This is why I wanted to get him away before you came home and reacted like _this_. You don't exactly think before you act, you know. Outbursts like that just push him away."

"Oh, is that a fact? Well, here's another one, your Highness. I'm sleeping in the Falcon"

He turned on his heel and stomped out of their living quarters.

"Nerf-herder!" She shouted after him.

* * *

The brisk walk out to the Falcon did very little to calm him down, but it did give him time to feel plenty guilty about some of the things he had said. So he was still mad at Leia, and he was mad at himself, and now he had to face Chewie, who was finishing up some routine maintenance.

Chewie greeted Han with an interrogatory grunt.

"Yeah, we had a fight. Do you know what she did? Get a load of this. She just sent Ben off to Luke's Jedi Academy while we were gone. No discussion, no input from me – I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Chewie's response was placating.

"I know, I know we can visit, but it's the principle of the thing."

The response from his best friend and copilot was longer this time.

"Yeah, I blew up. I'll have to apologize for that. But what she did – she shouldn't have done it that way."

Chewie's response was subdued.

"Yeah, I guess I'll just have to get used to it. I don't like it, but it's done now." He shook his head. Now that he was over the initial gut reaction, he realized that Leia had seemed scared. Really, really scared. And he had lashed out at her instead of being supportive. That made him feel like the lowest life form in the galaxy. "Aww, Chewie. What am I gonna do?"

Chewbacca's response was short and to the point. It meant _love them_.

Han nodded. "Yeah. I know. You're the best, pal," he said, trudging up the Falcon's ramp. Apologies would have to wait for morning. His princess needed time to cool off.

* * *

BEN

Ben was folding his clothing, placing soft undershirts and socks on a shelf in his room, when he sensed his Uncle _[sunshine coming through an open window on a summer day]_ coming around the corner. Luke knocked quietly on the door and poked his head in.

"Are you getting settled?"

"Yes, Un-er, Master Luke." Ben smiled, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. It felt strange to call his uncle 'Master Luke'.

"Good. Do you need anything? Another blanket? Slippers?" _[Guidance? Direction?]_

"No, thank you. I've got everything I need." The room, though small, with stone walls and floors, was surprisingly cozy. A soft pad covered the stone bunk, along with a homespun blanket made from some sort of plush natural fibers, and a fluffy pillow. A single lamp on the bedside table cast a soft yellow glow, warming the ancient stone walls. There was a braided rug and a large meditation cushion on the floor. He liked the room. It was open and inviting - sort of, he realized, like Uncle Luke.

"Glad to hear it." Luke continued to look at him, and Ben could feel _are you really okay? Let me in. Let me help._

He wanted to. He tried. But he just couldn't. He averted his gaze from his uncle's bright blue eyes, staring at his hands, biting the inside of his lip until it bled.

Luke sighed. "Alright. Well, here's your schedule for tomorrow." He handed Ben a holopad.

Ben studied it. Lots of meditation _[ugh]_ , Force studies _[yes!]_ , history classes, physical training… _[history…history of the galaxy…the Rebellion (I know plenty about that)…the Empire…]._ An image from his mother's consciousness appeared in his mind.

His mouth was dry. He cleared his throat. "Un-err, Master Luke?" His voice was quiet.

"Yes, Ben?"

"Will we learn about…the war?"

Luke nodded. "Of course."

"And about…the Empire?"

Another nod.

"And," deep breath, "Darth Vader?"

Luke nodded again, carefully.

"Because Mommy never will talk about…"

Luke sat down on the bunk and patted the spot beside of him. Ben sat.

"Your mother never had a chance to see the light in our father. She still fears him. But I did. He saved me. He was a very powerful Jedi and," he hesitated, "an even more powerful Sith. But in the end, he chose the light – as I knew he would. And yes, I'll tell you about him."

For the first time since he had arrived, Ben felt glad to be there.

Luke gave Ben a half-hug. "But not tonight. It's late, and you have a busy day tomorrow. Try to get some sleep."

"Okay."

* * *

LUKE

In the hallway, Luke stopped, leaned against the stone wall and rubbed a hand over his face. Never had he met a child so closed off. Where most of the younglings were like open books, Ben's mind was carefully walled off, hiding Luke didn't know what.

Leia had warned him that Ben had what she considered an unhealthy interest in the Darth Vader side of their father. But he had decided to be honest with the boy about Anakin, and Vader. He had a suspicion that Leia's reticence to discuss him was what had allowed the obsession to grow. And, in his past experience, he had learned that keeping secrets only served to make things worse. So, he would have no secrets from Ben.

He wished he could believe that Ben wouldn't have secrets from him.

* * *

BEN

 _Screaming. Children screaming. A great hall, a tall building. Everywhere, bloodfearterror. Anakin before he was Darth Vader (how-do-i-know-its-him-but-i-know-its-him), slashing at them with a blazing blue light saber. No remorse. No pity. No hesitation. Pain, fire, more pain, but more power. A shift in perspective, first-person now, and more children screaming, more bloodfearterror, but now they were outside, in the rain, in the jungle, and the light saber was red and his hand…his own hand was holding it._

He woke up screaming. "Mommy! _Mommy!_ MOMMY!"

He was sweating, twisted in the soft blanket, his breath coming fast, his heart hammering in his chest and blood pounding in his ears. "Mommy," he whimpered once more.

And a laugh curled inside his brain, oily and taunting. _Weak boy. Calling for your Mommy because of a bad dream. How pathetic. Your grandfather would be ashamed._

Ben pulled the blanket over his head, pressed his face into the pillow and screamed.

* * *

LEIA

She trudged back to her living quarters, drained from the stress of the past week, missing Ben, worrying about Ben, wounded by the fight with Han, exhausted from a day of endless meetings. To make it worse, she had had another nightmare last night. It started like they always did, with Vader and the orb and the pain, but then Vader shifted, and the form standing over her was no longer Vader. It was Ben. She woke, shaking, crying, and _alone_ since Han was sleeping in the Falcon, and spent the rest of the night huddled in blankets, too afraid to sleep. She shivered to think about it, even now.

C3PO was walking just behind her, rattling on about something that might have been important, but she wasn't even listening. Walking into the apartment, she kicked off her boots and started uncoiling her hair, fighting off a threatening headache. She was about to shrug out of her jacket when the door opened

And there was Han, holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers – the little white ones that reminded her of the kind that grew on Alderaan when there was an Alderaan. "I'm sorry," he said, and while a part of her would have liked to stay mad, she was simply too exhausted.

"I know," she smiled, and he folded her into his arms, holding her tight like only he could. She sighed against his chest. "I'm sorry, too."

"I know." His voice rumbled in his chest as she pressed herself against him and inhaled the scent of his leather jacket and of _him_. It made things better, but it didn't quite make them alright. This fight, unlike the others, left a permanent scar – a lessening of trust, a wariness that hadn't been there before. Leia shivered again.

* * *

A/N

So I decided to use the Yavin 4 location for this version of Luke's Jedi Academy, because, well, I needed to locate it somewhere in time and space, so I decided it's there unless/until I find out it isn't.

Next chapter: More Anakin and Obi-Wan, and tiny Rey.


	4. 4 - The Widening Gyre

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

ANAKIN

"Have I been doing this long enough?"

"Do you feel calm? Peaceful?"

Anakin gave Obi-Wan a smoldering look.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Can you get to 'only mildly irritated'?"

Anakin frowned, but nodded.

"Okay, good then," Obi-Wan nodded. "Focus. Center. Now, try to find her."

Anakin strained, searching, until he found her: Leia Organa Solo. She didn't ever include Skywalker. She was on Chandrila, in the chambers the Senate was using. She was giving a speech – impassioned and eloquent. She had the entire hall hanging on her every word. He swelled with pride. She was a natural leader – of course she was. She was his daughter.

The speech ended and she exited the great hall, entered a smaller chamber with several assistants. There was some conversation, and finally, they left and she was alone in the chamber.

"Now," Obi-Wan said. "Reach out to her."

Anakin reached out, felt himself flicker and finally found himself in the room with the daughter he had never known except…no. He shook it off. He hadn't known who she was ( _would it have mattered to Vader if he had?_ ).

"Leia…" Speaking was difficult, but he pressed on. "Leia, I need to talk to you…"

She didn't seem to hear him. He wasn't getting through.

" _Leia, please_." This time she looked around, waved a hand in front of her face as if swatting at something. "LEIA!" She shook her head and dismissed him as a ringing in her ear.

He felt himself fading, receding. "Wait! Leia! I need to talk to you! I need to talk to you…about Ben." He was on the other side of the barrier, staring at Obi-Wan, coiled in frustration. "It didn't work!"

Obi-Wan sighed. "I was afraid of that. She doesn't know you, and she fears Vader too much. But she's not the only one you can reach out to. Try the boy. That might be more useful, anyway. He should be more susceptible, since he's sort of obsessed with you – or at least, with Vader."

Anakin squirmed ( _Vader, why is the kid obsessed with Vader?)_ nodded, then frowned. "I guess this means another eternity of centering breaths?"

Obi-Wan shrugged, and they meditated, again, until Anakin had reached his version of a semblance of peace.

This time, he had a harder time finding his target, as he had never met the boy in life. Finally, though, he found himself in a small room, with a single bunk covered in soft oatmeal-colored blankets, a small wooden footlocker, a table with a glowing light – and a small black-haired boy, sitting cross-legged on a cushion on the floor, _trying_ to meditate.

Anakin focused, flickered, and…he encountered a presence around the boy, keeping him out. It was cold and dark and dense. The last time he had felt something like that, _he_ had been trapped inside it. _Palpatine_. He drew back in horror. _No, not Palpatine._ Similar, but if anything, worse. Colder. Slimier. And then the presence seemed to turn a bit, seemed to recognize Anakin. And if an amorphous black presence could smile, it did, and it was chilling. _You. I've been expecting you. You think you can save him, like you saved your son, when you let your weakness, your compassion take control and destroy all the Darkness had accomplished with you. But you can't. He's going to be mine. He's going to be more powerful than you were. And he will not fail. I will drive the weakness from him so that he does not. I am stronger than Sidious was, and my methods will be more effective. This weak, light version of you will not reach the boy and infect him. He will only know you as you were meant to be – as Darth Vader. And he will worship him._

Anakin's spirit shrank back in horror, fear washing over him in a cold black wave. He rushed back across the barrier, vibrating with terror, eyes darting around wildly, fists clenched, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain the encounter to Obi-Wan.

They were silent for a long time. This was unexpected.

Finally, Obi-Wan suggested, weakly, "Perhaps Luke?"

Anakin nodded. Luke. Of course. Luke would listen.

But there was no way he could even _try_ to get through to his son in his current state.

* * *

OBI-WAN

While Anakin tried to get to the right place emotionally to reach out to his son, Obi-Wan reached out as well, searching the future.

He found a thread: Anakin got through to Luke, warned him, explained – all to no avail. The outcome was the same. The boy went to the Dark side, and with his help, the First Order rose and darkness overtook the galaxy.

He found another, in which Anakin finally got through to Leia, and while they had a touching bit of closure, it was too late for the mother to save the child.

He found no thread in which Anakin made it through to the boy, although that didn't mean he wouldn't. Just that it was unlikely.

He tried other possibilities, but every one led to the same inevitable end.

One more possibility, one he had hoped to avoid. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and reached out until he found his own neice. She was kind and smart and strong, but her connection to the Force was little more than that of every other living thing. She was on a small green and blue planet in a small system, watching as her toddler daughter played in a field of flowers. The toddler chased a brightly colored fluttering insect, laughing as it flitted just out of her grasp. Then, she held out a hand and caught it in a stream of energy he could see, but she couldn't. She drew it toward her, let it settle in her tiny palm, and examined it, looking at its bright pink and turquoise markings and tiny antennae, carefully, gently, somehow knowing not to even brush a finger against the delicate wings. Satisfied, she released it and it fluttered away a little drunkenly. The little girl laughed.

Obi-Wan sighed. He followed a thread, trying to make out the child's future. It was a pleasant, soft life, surrounded by her parents and siblings to come, living on the jewel-bright little world, playing with friends, going to school, and gradually forgetting that she could do things other children couldn't, the Force flowing through her but never really manifesting as anything but a keen intelligence and perceptiveness. She married a minor bureaucrat, got a job as a droid maintenance tech, had several chubby-cheeked children. Years passed, ordinary and pleasant. Anakin's grandson was consumed by the Dark, and the First Order became more powerful than the Empire had ever been, it's reach spreading across the galaxy.

He sighed and traced the thread back to the toddler in the field, then tried another thread, one he hadn't wanted to follow.

She was five, wearing a view-limiting helmet, swatting at an orb with a training light saber. She was six, running through the dark and rain, and there were screams, and a boy with a flickering red light saber, and her little feet pounding along a path in a jungle…her mother weeping as she heard the words 'massacre' and 'no survivors'. The little girl, alone, starving, on a desolate sandy world, scavenging the remains of an Empire just to survive. Hungry, frightened, lonely, confused – but strong. Scratching and struggling for every scrap, every crumb, learning to fend for herself and think for herself. He saw her frozen like the fluttering insect, in a forest, and there was the boy. She was on a ship, restrained, frightened. A battle of wills, of minds, a bond. And again, in another forest, with a light saber – _Anakin's_ light saber – in her hand. The images shifted, and he had trouble catching them, but throughout the vision, she and the boy, coming together – sometimes violently, sometimes in another way that he'd rather not dwell on – he shook his head. He couldn't see the end. She killed the boy. He killed her. He pulled her into the darkness. She brought him back to the light. All equally possible. But this was the only thread that led to hope.

He returned to the present, looked at the laughing child, light and shadow flickering over her face as she ran across the field. His heart ached for what he was going to do. _I'm sorry, Rey_ , he thought, and then turned back to the girl's mother, focused and manifested before her.

Her eyes widened. "Uncle?"

"Child." His voice was gentle, but sad. "You must send Rey to train at the Jedi Academy. There lies her destiny." He let the words float out, into the Force. And he faded away.

* * *

A/N

So, this chapter (and really the whole story) is about possibilities. Theories, what-ifs – sort of like the ones Obi-Wan was sifting through - little trails that I followed to see where they might take me. I'm a mom, and so Leia and Ben just break my heart, even more so after I read the novelization, which has an expanded version of the conversation between Han and Leia when she says "It was Snoke. He seduced our son to the Dark side." I won't spoil it, but it's my underlying premise.

And then, it's bothered me that, if Anakin chose the light at the end, why didn't he do something? Well, maybe he didn't completely choose the light, maybe the Dark still had a hold of him – entirely possible. Or maybe by the time he would have tried to get through, Ben was too far in the Dark to hear him. Or…well, lots of possible reasons. Or maybe he _tried_ to get through to his grandson and Snoke prevented it. Have I mentioned I hate that guy? Anyway, Anakin will be back. He's a persistent dude.

Yeah, so I sort of combined the 'Rey's a Kenobi' theory and the 'Rey was one of the younglings' theory. And I decided not to go with a direct descendent because it felt a little easier than having to explain how and with whom Obi-Wan would have had a child. As far as which planet they're on, I don't know. I just didn't want it to be Tatooine – I wanted it to be somewhere lush and beautiful and easy. I needed to give her an identity, and this worked for this story so… Don't be mad. :)

If you like, please review. And if there's someone's perspective you'd like to hear, let me know and I'll try to work it in.


	5. 5 - History

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

BEN

Ben rarely had pleasant dreams, but this one was. Strange, sure, but nice. It was of a little girl, two or three years old, with wispy brown hair, running through a sun-dappled field of wild flowers. She was laughing, and she looked back at him, smiled and held out her hand, beckoning. _Come with me._ He wanted to follow her, tried to…and ( _pleasant feelings gone_ ) he was held back by a cold iron grip – the Whisper Voice. The little girl's brows knitted together, a tiny line of worry forming between them, and she backed away, hand still stretched out, until she faded completely.

* * *

LUKE

All other issues aside, Ben Solo was by far the most talented student Luke had ever had.

While the other children struggled to levitate a rock, Ben could stack a pile of them in the center of the courtyard.

While the others still struggled to avoid getting zapped with the training remote on the lowest level, Ben could block the shocks almost every time, even on expert level.

Academically, he excelled, especially in history and political science, which wasn't surprising since he had grown up immersed in it, but in the other subjects as well. He threw himself into physical training and was soon stronger than those several years older, moving with a fluid strength that was rare for someone his age and height.

True, he struggled with meditation, never quite reaching a level of true peace, but that would come. And he tended to want to _debate_ the Jedi Code instead of simply learn it, frustrating Luke with a level of rhetoric well beyond his years ( _thanks sis_ ). Luke had yet to be able to get through to him that it wasn't a bill being debated in the Senate, or a treaty being negotiated in committee, but a code to live by.

There were some issues, like the time the training remote had zapped him on the rear end and he had Force-slammed it into a stone wall so hard it broke into a million tiny pieces. And there were the nightmares Luke knew still plagued the boy, the dark circles under his eyes in the mornings evidence of another night of haunted sleep. Overall, though, overall he was doing exceptionally well. He was quiet and serious, focused and intent. And, oh, Force studies. It actually scared Luke how strong he was. He could things Luke had only mastered after years of practice, and some, mostly the mental aspects, that Luke still couldn't do, and he made it look _effortless_ – like he didn't even have to try. _Because he doesn't_ , Luke thought. This led to a bit of arrogance on Ben's part when, gradually, he realized he was simply _better_ than most of the others. Luke knew he would have to work on that with the kid, but Luke himself remembered how impatient and impetuous he had been as a student.

 _Ben will be fine_. _Leia did the right thing sending him here_. He wasn't sure why he felt like he had to keep telling himself that.

* * *

BEN

Another nightmare tore Ben from sleep. He only remembered feelings from this one – pain, fear, hopelessness. He woke again calling for his mother.

However, she was not the one to answer.

 _Crying for Mommy again. Frail, puny boy._ The Whisper Voice. He clutched the blanket to his chin. _Your grandfather wouldn't ask his mommy to save him. In fact, he saved her. Avenged her._

Ben was leery, but interested. Luke had kept his promise, and told him many things about his grandfather, but he had never heard this story. How did the Whisper Voice know it?

 _I know a great deal about your grandfather. Things your uncle does not know; would not understand._

Ben's mouth was dry. _T-tell me?_

 _Of course. In fact, I can do better than that. I can show you._

 _Ben was watching a scene play out in his mind: a desert planet, a desperate search, a woman who had been abused, tortured nearly to death. His grandfather, young, taking her in his arms as the life seeped out of her. Sadness, despair, so deep and black he couldn't see the bottom of it. And then – anger - rolling over his grandfather – and him, because he was feeling it too. It was red and roiling and delicious. Cutting the sand people down – so easy, so satisfying. They deserved it – the things they had done to his mother [great-grandmother] – they deserved it, all of them._

The vision faded, but the energy, so raw and red and strong, stayed. _They deserved it._ Ben felt it, touched it, tasted it, and it was delicious. He paced restlessly as the rush gradually wore off and the pale light of morning seeped into his room.

* * *

A/N

Oh, Ben. :(


	6. 6 - Shadows

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

LEIA

"General?"

"Yes?"

"A ship just came out of hyperspace, and appears to be on approach. They have a code, but it's an old one."

Her brow furrowed, and she flipped a switch, placing the brand-new Resistance base on alert. "Have blue squadron in the ready room."

"Yes, ma'am." There was a pause, then: "Ship requests a direct comlink with you."

"Patch it through."

"If you need a translator, remember, I speak 6 million languages," C3PO reminded her.

"Thank you, Threepio."

She put on her headset. "Ship on approach to D'Qar, go ahead."

"Hey, sis! What's a guy gotta do to get on the guest list there?"

 _Luke!_ Relief flooded through her and she cancelled the alert. "How about call ahead and request a clearance?"

"Oh, right. Sorry. I, uh, didn't exactly plan ahead. It was more important to get here quick. We need to talk. Now." His voice was filled with anxiety.

Her stomach clenched again. _Ben._ Something was wrong.

Luke was in the command center in minutes, and she ushered him to a private table, where they could talk without being overheard. "What is it?"

"Umm. So I had a visitor."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Father."

She pressed her lips together. "Oh."

"And, he, well, he said he tried to, you know, appear to you, but you weren't receptive…"

"He's right. I'm not."

"…and he tried to get through to Ben and…"

" _Ben?_ Why the…"

Luke cut her off. "Ben is…there's a threat." He was careful. "Father saw it – sensed it – and he tried to warn him but, well, he said there was a…a presence…"

 _Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no._ Leia bit her knuckle.

"…very dark and…and keeping him out, away from Ben. He said it was…"

"Trying to lure Ben to the Dark side." She finished.

Luke looked at her, astonished. "You knew?"

"I sensed it. All along. Since he was born. That's why, after that last incident, I sent him to you. I thought being there, with you, learning the way of the Jedi, surrounded by the light-I thought it would protect him. I thought…"

"Do you know who it is?"

She shook her head. "I only ever have a feeling of menace and darkness."

"Father knows. Have you ever heard of someone called Snoke?"

Her eyes narrowed and her lip curled. "Indeed I have. He's the leader of the First Order, a particularly nasty reactionary group that wants to restore the Empire. We've had several run-ins with them, but they always get away, and no one can find their base of operations. They tend to raid isolated planets, kill the adults and adolescents and take all the small children. I don't know to what end. They're vile. Luke, you're not saying…"

He nodded.

Leia clenched her fists. Her blood felt like ice water in her veins. She looked around the command center, at the gleaming apparatus of war all around her. Thought of the destruction she could unleash with the flick of a switch, with a softly-spoken word. Snoke. She would hunt him down, find him and drag him out of whatever slimy, sulfurous hole he was hiding in. The First Order. She would pursue them to the ends of the galaxy and then she would use the impressive array of weaponry at her fingertips to destroy them, annihilate them, obliterate them…

 _This will not do._ She took a deep breath and dug her nails into her palms.

She was glad that she had not developed her Force sensitivity until she was an adult, glad she had never trained and flexed that particular muscle, because right now, she felt rage; pure, perfect rage. Her mind craved a target; her finger itched for a trigger. She sucked in a breath, then another. She leaned against Luke, feeding off his light, until she could think logically again. She _would_ find them, she _would_ hunt them down, she _would_ stop them - but not out of rage. She would do it for the same reason she had always done it: to protect and defend the defenseless.

The oh-so-very defenseless.

* * *

BEN

Ben had been misusing his meditation time for months. He knew what he was supposed to be doing. Connecting with the Force. Feeling it surrounding him and binding him to everything else. Letting it flow through him. Reaching a state of true peace and calmness. And he could do it; it wasn't hard, really.

But it was so _boring_.

He _was_ connected to the Force, all the time. It was always flowing through him, sometimes so strongly he felt like he couldn't contain it. So why did he have to sit still for hours on end thinking about it, when that just made him feel like he was going to jump out of his skin. And the Whisper Voice, while still terrifying, wasn't quite as scary in the daytime, and, Ben had to admit, he found the tidbits about his grandfather ten times more interesting than trying to achieve a state of peace and harmony.

Plus, if he talked to the Whisper Voice during meditation, sometimes it let him sleep at night.

 _I'm not sure you're old enough for this story. It's a love story._

 _I am. I promise._ He hoped it didn't have a lot mushy parts.

 _Fine. Then I'll tell you the story of your grandmother._

He saw the story unfold in his mind as he heard the words.

 _Padme. Her name was Padme Amidala. She was a queen; kind, benevolent, always putting her people ahead of herself; fearless, too, and exceedingly beautiful._ Ben saw a young woman in an elaborate gown and head-dress, fine-featured and gentle. _Your grandfather met her when he was just a boy, and fell hopelessly in love with her. And in time, she with him. But the Jedi Order took him, told him that because he was strong in the Force, his destiny was to become a Jedi. And Jedi were denied love._

Ben frowned. This didn't seem right. Jedi could love. Uncle Luke loved him, and Mommy, and Daddy. In fact, on some level, Uncle Luke loved everybody.

 _You_ _ **are**_ _a bright boy,_ the Whisper Voice purred, and Ben warmed at the praise. _You figured that out very quickly. Yes, the Jedi can, perhaps_ _ **must**_ _, love everyone. But they cannot love one person, passionately, exclusively, as your grandfather loved Padme. Your grandfather and Padme had to hide their love, to marry in secret, because of the Jedi. And then she found out she was with child. Your grandfather had visions – she was going to die in childbirth. He wanted to help her; he would have done_ _ **anythin**_ _g to save her. She was his life, his world, the queen of his galaxy. And he was going to lose her. He couldn't even go to his friends for help, because his love for Padme was forbidden, and his friends, the Jedi, would have sent him away. But he found someone who_ _ **could**_ _help him; someone who knew things the Jedi didn't. Darth Sidious._ _He could have shared the secret of an awesome power with your grandfather, a power that could bring his love back from death, but the Jedi found out. They tried to stop him. And by the time the Jedi were defeated, it was too late. Your grandmother died because of the Jedi._

Ben was horrified. He didn't like all that sappy love stuff, but he understood how terrible it would be to lose someone who was that important to you. And the Jedi let her die? Tried to prevent Grandfather from using this new Force power to save her? How could they do that? Why would they do that? He couldn't imagine Uncle Luke letting someone die because their husband had broken some silly rule.

 _I don't think Jedi would do that. They're good. They help people._

 _But they did. And what they did to your grandfather was even worse._

 _Wha-what did they do?_

 _They sent his Master, who was also his best friend, to kill him. All because he tried to save his wife. And this man, this Jedi, cut off your grandfather's legs and left him to burn to death in a volcano._ Ben saw his grandfather, screaming and writhing as flames licked at his skin. _The Jedi didn't even have the strength to end his suffering. Darth Sidious found your grandfather, and rescued him after his best friend, the Jedi, left him for dead. And then, then the Jedi stole your grandfather's children, stole them form him and hid them so that he thought they died with their mother._

It was a balmy, steamy day on Yavin 4, like every other day, but Ben was shivering. He scrunched his eyes tightly closed and clenched his teeth and balled his hands into fists. How could they have done those things? How could that be true? And yet, he knew it was true, knew it had happened, had _seen_ it through the Force, and that terrified him.

 _But_ _ **why**_ _?_ Ben asked plaintively.

The Whisper Voice didn't respond for a while.

 _It is complicated. Far too complicated to explain like this. Do you really want to know? To understand?_

 _Yes!_

 _Then perhaps, if you are truly willing to listen, to learn, to do exactly as I tell you_ …the Whisper Voice paused, and Ben unintentionally held his breath _. Perhaps it is time for us to meet face to face._

* * *

A/N

Okay, I sort of creeped myself out writing that. I think I'll go take a shower. I feel contaminated.

D'Qar: I don't know exactly when the Resistance really started using the base on D'Qar, but I decided this was as good a time as any.

It'll be a few days until I get to update again; I'm going out of town.


	7. 7 - Good Intentions

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

*For some reason, the story didn't move back to the top last time I updated, so read Ch. 6 before this one if you missed it.

* * *

OBI-WAN

"What's he doing this time?" Mace Windu asked. He, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon – or at least their spirit selves – were watching Anakin, who had materialized about three meters in front of his grandson (which was as close as he could get – the wall of darkness prevented him from getting any closer) and was shouting.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Calling him. He said he thinks a little bit of it might be getting through – that sometimes he sort of looks in his direction."

"Hmmf."

They looked on as Anakin shouted – had he still had a physical form, he would have long since shouted himself hoarse.

"Ben! Ben! No! That's not how it happened. He's twisting it! Ask him about the parts he's leaving out! The parts where it was _my_ fault – all my fault! Obi-Wan wasn't weak, he loved me, and I loved him, and that's why he couldn't bring himself to…to…maybe he should have. And Padme – the Jedi didn't kill her. I did. I killed her – she was my angel and I _killed_ her. I choked her and I broke her heart and she died, all because of me. Oh, Padme, please, please…." He was pleading, weeping.

Mace frowned. "This serves no good purpose." He looked at Obi-Wan, whose consciousness was nearly as tortured as Anakin's. "Go get him."

Obi-Wan nodded.

"Padme. I'm sorry. So so so sorry…" Anakin leaned forward, took a step…and vanished.

* * *

ANAKIN

Despair overtook him as he listened, listened as a version of a story he had lived was twisted and corrupted to trick a child, and he was filled with guilt and despair and self-loathing. It had been his fault, all of it. Even this, now, was his fault. How many more people had to suffer, he wondered, because of his poor decisions? Guilt, shame, fear, loathing all swirled around him, dark and deep and pulling him down, down, down. He took a step forward. And another. And another. He felt something familiar curl around him, embrace him. It felt cold and sinister.

It felt like home.

He looked around, and noticed that he was within arm's reach of the boy. Surprise registered beneath his despair. He had gotten through the shield, through the darkness. Finally! He reached his hand out toward the boy, and was surprised that the hand he saw wore a black glove. The boy, kneeling on his meditation cushion, eyes and teeth clenched shut, hands balled into tight fists, seemed to sense his presence, opened his eyes and looked up. The boy inhaled sharply, eyes opening wide, and stared at Anakin with an expression of pure reverence and awe. Hope soared through Anakin, and he opened his mouth to speak – and was violently shoved out of the cloud of darkness.

No longer able to maintain his physical manifestation, he retreated across the barrier.

* * *

OBI-WAN

Anakin was exhausted from whatever had just happened. His consciousness was a turmoil of emotions: fear and hope and remorse and shame and, over all that, the joy of new discovery.

"What the bloody frack happened?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin's spirit's smile was intense, and only a little insane. "I know how to get through," he said.

* * *

BEN

He had been there. He had _appeared_ to him. _Grandfather_. Close enough to touch, but not touchable. Shimmering and transparent but instantly recognizable – the figure from his mother's dream that he knew so well, with the shiny black helmet and flowing cape. And he had reached out toward Ben.

It had only lasted a second, but it had been _real_. Truly real. Grandfather had _appeared_ to him, right after he decided he would fight his terror and meet the Whisper Voice. Ben took this as a sign that he had made the right decision. That Grandfather approved.

* * *

LEIA

Leia had decided. She would fly back to the Academy with Luke that very morning.

"We'll just sit Ben down and explain what we know, lay it all out for him, bring everything out in the open. He's thirteen, old enough to understand things. And we'll be able to find out if he's been…if he's aware of anything."

Luke frowned a bit. "So, an intervention?"

She shook her head. "No. A conversation. Reason. Rationality. Facts."

Luke considered. "Because the last thing we want to do is scare him – or worse, make him think we're accusing him of something and make him mad."

She nodded. "I know." This would take every bit of diplomatic skill she possessed. "But honesty is the best policy." Secrets had a way of coming back and biting you in the ass.

Except, she had decided, where Han was concerned. If he found out about this he would want to lock Ben in the smuggler's cargo compartment of the Falcon for the rest of his life. And maybe they should leave out the fact that the information had come from Anakin's Force ghost. She didn't really want to go down that road with her son again.

Leia felt a feeling of nostalgia as they touched down on Yavin 4. The overgrown temple, the lush jungle, the steamy heat that enveloped her as she stepped out of the ship all brought back memories touched with light and shadow.

They walked into the temple, into Luke's quarters. His study was a mess, tables overflowing with holopads, holocrons, even a few ancient printed volumes. He cleared some training materials off a chair for Leia to sit in. "I'll go get him."

Leia nodded, gave him a weak smile. Tension floated around them.

It was only a few minutes until Luke returned with a boy who was impossibly even taller than last time she had seen him. He looked different - wary, diffident. His hair had gotten longer, and fell across his eyes. She reached out mentally, but the mother-child connection that had been there before was weak, and his mind was closed off, suspicious, giving away nothing. "Ben." She was across the room, wrapping him in a hug that she knew was too tight, too suffocating.

He hugged her back, but after a few seconds, squirmed away. "Gah. I can't breathe, Mom."

She reluctantly let him go, but kept fussing around him, smoothing his hair out of his face, straightening his robe, looking into his eyes as if she was trying to _find something_.

He swallowed. "So. What's up?"

Luke cleared his throat. "I think we should sit down."

They sat around a stone table, Luke shoving stacks of Jedi training materials out of the way, and, in careful words, they explained what they knew.

Leia tried to get a read on her son – was he afraid? Was he aware of the threat? Had the darkness already touched him? But he kept his expression carefully neutral and his mind guarded as he listened to everything with an intensity that Leia wasn't sure how to take.

"But what does this guy want with me?" He finally asked. A careful, guarded question, not the panic of a frightened child.

The siblings exchanged a glance.

Leia spoke first. "Oh, Ben." She reached out and touched his cheek. "You have no idea of your potential. Your power – that's what he wants. He wants to win you to the Dark Side to use your power."

He shrugged. "Lots of people have the Force. Why _me_ specifically?"

Luke spoke this time. "I think because you are stronger in the Force than most others. You _know_ this. You're aware of how easily you do things that the others struggle with. Of the fact that there are some things you can do that not even I can. The fact that you use these abilities with a natural ease, not a practiced effort. He wants you because of all those things. And because you're a Skywalker."

Ben stared at the table, running his fingernail along a tiny crack in the stone. "How long have you known this?"

"Not long." She didn't meet her son's gaze.

"And how'd you find out?"

"A reliable source."

He glanced at her, clearly not satisfied with the answer.

They were silent, Leia and Luke worried, Ben sullen. Finally, she reached out and clasped his hands. How did they get bigger than hers? "Ben." She willed him to meet her eyes and, to her surprise, he did. "We're going to neutralize this threat. Finding the First Order and this – _person_ \- is the top priority of the Resistance now. We just need you to be aware of the danger, to be on guard, until we can do so. We _will_ find them. We _will_ stop them."

He nodded and she squeezed his hands until he pulled them away.

BEN

He struggled to keep his roiling emotions contained as he walked back to his room.

The discussion had not frightened him. He already knew plenty about the 'threat', as they called it. It had haunted his nightmares as long as he could remember. It had given him tastes of what he could do with his power, if he were not limited by the ways of the Jedi. _If I am as powerful as they all seem to think, why shouldn't I at least find out the extent of what I'm capable of, without so many things being off-limits? What if the Jedi are wrong? If they could let my grandmother die, kill my grandfather, for an infraction of a stupid, unfair rule –_

He had no intention of going to the Dark side. But what was the harm in getting some answers; answers that Uncle Luke either didn't have or wouldn't give him?

And now he felt more confident than he had that he could handle this meeting with the Whisper Voice – Snoke, he corrected himself. That was his name. Because he had just been handed an advantage: knowledge.

Knowledge is power, his mother always said.

* * *

A/N

Good intentions. The road to hell is paved with them.

Anakin will be back, and he _will_ find a way to help, eventually. Thanks to WeylandCorp4 for the suggestion that will lead to Anakin's next idea.

Rating changed to 'T' because, well, you know it's going to get worse, right?


	8. 8 - Nightmare

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

A/N

Oh, Ben. Sigh. This was actually painful to write. So, umm, trigger warnings for abuse/violence maybe. It's rated T for a reason, so just be warned.

On the other hand, if you'd like to creep yourself out even more, listen to '4 O' Clock' by Emilie Autumn along with this chapter.

* * *

BEN

The path through the jungle was narrow and overgrown. Overhanging vegetation blocked out what little light came from the past-the-middle-of-the-night sky. Ben stumbled over a vine. He wasn't even completely sure he was going the right way. The Whisp… _Snoke_ had not exactly given him directions. He was expected to find the meeting place using the Force. The night sounds of the jungle surrounded him; mists swirled among the trees. His feet slipped on wet leaves and sweat dripped into his eyes. Stupid jungle planet. He shoved his hair out of his face as he trudged on, the path growing impossibly even more narrow and winding.

Then, he felt something – a deeper darkness off to the side. He took a cautious step toward it, then another. It was a cave, almost invisible from the path. He felt a familiar presence inside, waiting, impatient. He hesitated, considered turning back.

 _What would grandfather do?_

He stepped into the cave.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but not this. For one thing, the figure inside the cave wasn't really there. He was a hologram. Oh, his presence, his essence was there, but not his physical body. He was, however, every bit as terrifying as the voice had promised he would be. Tall, deathly pale, skeletally thin, with a scarred face and mis-shapen skull, he glowered down at Ben.

"It's about time."

Ben gulped. He almost changed his mind about his approach, but this was the only advantage he had. He would use it to negotiate; to get the answers he needed about the Jedi, his grandfather, the Force, what Snoke wanted from him…all of it.

He had seen his mother do this so many times: walk into a meeting with a piece of information her adversary didn't know she had and just drop it, like a bomb, and no matter who was sitting across the table, their eyes would open wide in shock and they'd know she had bested them. Lead from strength, she said. Ben didn't feel especially strong right now, but he tried to imitate her confidence – her flat expression, her cool, steady tone.

"So, is this when you try to recruit me to work for the First Order…Snoke?" His voice cracked when he said it.

Just for a fraction of a second, that gratifying expression flickered across the terrifying face – surprise, shock even. Then it morphed to stony fury.

"You will address me as Supreme Leader Snoke, _boy._ And you will do it with proper respect."

Ben felt something push him, and he fell to his knees on the stone floor of the cave. "Oww," he said, as much out of surprised offense as pain.

"Normally, I would not tolerate such _insolence_. However, in this case, it speaks of a certain…potential. It was almost brave. Foolish and potentially fatal, but promising."

Ben didn't speak.

"Now, you'll tell me where you acquired this knowledge."

 _Uh-oh._ Ben's heart pounded in his chest. This was not going well - _notgoingwellnotgoingwell._ "No."

If the face had had eyebrows, they would have shot up. "NO?"

Ben felt something, like a spike being driven into his temple. He clutched his head and doubled over and screamed as his mind was brutally searched.

The face swam above him. "Ahh. From your mother. How nice."

"My mother's going to kill you," Ben whimpered.

"I'm sure she _would_ , if she knew where to find me. But she doesn't. I, on the other hand…"

Realization swept over Ben, and horror. He started naming planets in his mind, first in a neat alphabetical list, like he had learned them in Galactic Geography:

Anoat-Bespin-Chandrila-Corellia-Coruscant-Dagobah-Dantooine-Dathomir-Devaraon-Endor-Felusia-Geonisis-Hosnian Prime-Hoth…

Then, as the spike drove in deeper, randomly, snatching names from memory:

Kashyyk, Naboo, Yavin 4, Dantooine, Tatooine, Hoth….Dantooine...Tatooine…. Alderaan….no not Alderaan don't think about mother don't think about mother don't think about…

"D'Qar. That's where Mommy is. And Daddy. Uncle Chewy. And a few friends – a little boy with brown curls – Poe? A girl with yellow hair in two buns, a girl with black corkscrew curls…"

Ben was slumped on the floor, clutching his head. He felt something trickle from his nose, and when he licked his lip he tasted blood. "Don't hurt them." It was a plea, not a demand.

The voice didn't respond for what seemed like hours. Then: "Don't make me."

"I won't. I _won't_." He swiped under his nose to wipe away the blood, smearing it across the back of his hand.

"You're afraid."

Ben nodded.

"You don't like it."

"Huh-uh."

"Good. Then perhaps you can learn something, if you'll stop sniveling."

Ben stayed slumped on the floor, afraid to move.

"Look at me when I speak to you, boy."

He peered up, from under his hair. His stomach clenched; his armpits dampened with acrid fear-induced perspiration.

"You need to learn to better guard your mind."

Ben nodded. "H-how?"

"Practice." Then the spike was back, and Ben clutched his temples again and whimpered. This time Snoke wasn't looking for anything specific, just browsing, and each memory he touched retained a trace of darkness, a feeling that it was tainted. Recent memories _–_ besting Luke with the training light saber, last night's dinner of stew and rehydrated bread, staring at a girl in political science class – _that one's a little embarrassing – oops, shouldn't have thought that_ because now the probing seemed to be looking for other things that were embarrassing. The time when he was three and Shara Bey took him up for some acro and he threw up all over her A-Wing; the time Poe, who was a head shorter than Ben, beat him in a foot race; the time his mother caught him looking at a holo of a lady without clothes on; that thing he did in the shower sometimes when he had looked at a girl for too long… _Stop it! That's private stuff! Get out!_

"Make me, boy."

"I don't know _how_!"

"Then perhaps you're not what I had hoped. I thought you had power, but you're weak. Too weak to even resist a mild mind intrusion. Pathetic."

 _Mild?_ His temple was throbbing, and blood was dripping out of his nose, down the front of his shirt.

More memories – Dejarik with Artoo, sitting in the command center with Mommy, Uncle Luke explaining the Force…right. The Force. Ben tried to connect with it; tried to reach that place of peace and harmony he had felt sometimes when he bothered with meditation, but he couldn't get there. He couldn't even get close, because his mind was chaos and pain and terror.

"You don't actually think you can use that Jedi foolishness, do you? Peace, serenity, harmony? _You_?" Snoke's laugh ran around his mind and through his veins like ice. Ben thought he might vomit.

The probing continued, making its way deeper into the recesses of his mind, to a set of memories that he cherished because, unlike most, they were – it was hard to explain but the word that came to mind was _pure_. His first memory of his mother's face, looking down at him, eyes soft, mouth curved up in an adoring smile, long brown hair loose around her shoulders, a soft rocking motion and a warm feeling of safety; the first time Daddy took him out for a hundred-credit-nerfburger in the Falcon, traveling through hyperspace just to get the best greasy food in the galaxy; riding on Uncle Chewy's shoulders, little fingers clutching long hair so he didn't fall and he could see over all the grown-ups heads and he could see _everythin_ g; the only good dream he had ever had – the little girl in the flower field. And if Snoke saw them, touched them, they would be tainted and ruined forever. Silent tears ran down his face and mixed with the blood, and there was nothing but _painfearhorrordisgust_ and he wasn't sure if the disgust was at Snoke or at himself for getting into this mess but he suddenly resolved that he would not let him ruin those memories – the few, the only pure things he had - and something welled up inside him to replace the fear, something red and hot, and it flowed through his veins and it felt _good_ , finally something that felt good and it blocked out all the bad-bad-bad feelings and he pushed, shoved, screamed…

The intrusion was gone. He was still on his knees, but no longer slumped in fear. He was glaring at the figure before him, hot red goodness thrumming through his veins. Snoke would kill him now, kill him for kicking him out, for his defiance, but he wasn't even scared anymore because this felt good and it had been so long-so long-so long since anything felt good and anyway if he killed him at least it would be over.

The silence went on indefinitely. Finally, Snoke spoke again. "That was a satisfactory lesson. Perhaps you aren't a total waste of time, after all."

Ben blinked. Lesson? He wasn't going to kill him? He was – pleased?

"In answer to the question you posed so discourteously earlier, I am not 'recruiting' you for the First Order. I have no need for your services as a Stormtrooper. They're easily obtained and expendable. I have something much more _special_ in mind for you. A way that you can use your abilities to the fullest. _If_ you continue to prove that you're capable of learning and becoming strong instead of wallowing in self-pity like the weak, pathetic little boy you are."

Ben just nodded, relief flooding through him. He wasn't going to die tonight.

"You will come here when I summon you. You will not be late again. You are dismissed."

He nodded again. Anything, anything, anything for escape. For peace.

That laugh again, slithering around him with icy fingers. "Peace is a lie, boy. Now go."

Ben felt the hold that had been keeping him on his knees release, and he scrambled to his feet and out of the cave. His legs were wobbly, but he used what was left of the hot red energy that was still in him to make his way back down the path. At one point he doubled over and retched onto the ground. He wasn't sure how he found his way back to his room, but when he did he wrapped himself in his blanket and rocked back and forth until, exhausted, he slept.

In his dream, he was again walking down the path in the jungle when someone behind him called his name. A clear, high voice in his head: _Ben_. He turned and saw the little girl from the flower field. She was holding out her hand again – so small and soft. _Come back._ He looked at her sadly. _I can't._ She frowned, and faded away.


	9. 9 - Peering Into Darkness

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

ANAKIN

They – their spirit forms - were all staring at him as if he had grown an extra head and turned purple.

"Do this, you should not." Well, he hadn't really expected Yoda to approve.

"Absolutely not." Apparently Mace was going to need more convincing, as well.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "You have finally gone totally around the bend." Well, at least his mentor hadn't outright told him _not_ to do it.

He turned to the man who, more than the others, had always believed in him. The one who had first seen his potential. Anakin had always preferred Qui-Gon's slightly unorthodox take on the Jedi way, and hoped that he would see the merit in the desperate idea. "Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon hesitated, considered. Then he shrugged. "Well, it's not the _worst_ idea he's ever had." This wasn't exactly the ringing endorsement Anakin had hoped for, but it was…something?

"Thank you."

Obi-Wan snorted. "I wouldn't take that as a compliment. You've had some cosmically bad ideas."

Anakin glared. "And now I'm working on fixing that shit."

"Bad language, there is no need for." Right. Because of course Yoda would chide him for _cursing_ while that Palpatine pretender was torturing his grandson.

Qui-Gon cut in. "Perhaps we should at least hear him out."

Anakin nodded his thanks. "I can do this. It will work."

"It's madness! Anakin, do you realize what you're suggesting? That you intentionally give in to the Dark, let it take you, to try and reach the boy?" This was Obi-Wan, concern etched on his features.

"I do."

"You could easily get lost, become a Dark spirit, forever consumed by madness and hatred."

"I can break away. I just _did_ it."

Mace spoke. "You didn't break away. You said that as soon as you felt a positive emotion – hope – the Darkness _threw you out_."

"So that's what I'll do – make it throw me out."

"What makes you think you have that kind of control, to resist it?" Mace asked.

"Because I did it before."

"We just established that was an accident…"

"No. For Luke. I broke away to save my son. I can do it for my grandson, too."

They were silent.

Finally, Yoda spoke again. "Make it worse, you might. Appear as Vader, inspire the boy to evil you will."

Anakin frowned. He _had_ been Vader when he was in the Dark, he knew that. That was an issue. He would need to learn to be Anakin, even in the Darkness; would need to learn to hold on long enough to say what he needed to say to the boy, before the Darkness threw him out; before Snoke realized he was there. Snoke, who was trapping the boy in the darkness as they sat and debated, debated, debated. Anakin had always despised the fact that the Jedi Council spent so much time talking, when what was needed was _action._ But he also knew that, in this, he needed their help. It wasn't an easy thing to admit.

"I…I can do it. I have to. But you're right. I shouldn't be rash. I need to learn control, peace, serenity. All the things I've always struggled with. I have to _master_ them, so I can do this."

On the other side of the barrier, he saw the boy, writhing in pain, his face covered in tears mixed with blood.

He looked at the Jedi spirits beseechingly. "Please. Help me help him."

* * *

BEN

His head pounded; his stomach churned; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His knees throbbed where they had been scraped by the stone floor of the cave. He smelled like sweat and blood and vomit.

Daylight streamed in through the window, making his eyes pulsate with pain. He pulled the pillow over his head, but the pounding in his skull got louder.

It took a while for him to realize the pounding wasn't just in his head. Someone was knocking on the door.

"Ben?"

He jolted awake.

Luke! Oh no. Luke would know, would know everything. Would know that right after they warned him, he had willingly gone and communed with the Dark. Luke, who was all light and peace and kindness would _know_ what he had done and be horrified. Luke would be so disappointed in him, so appalled at his stupidity, so disgusted…

"Ben? Are you alright? You missed breakfast." Luke, who had nothing but care and concern for Ben, would realize how little regard Ben had for that care and concern. So little he went off and did exactly what Luke and his mother had warned him against.

 _You need to learn to guard your mind better, boy._ The voice made him sick, but…

He concentrated on blocking out everything. Luke couldn't find out.

"Ben?!"Now there was an edge of panic in his voice.

Ben swallowed. "I…I don't feel very good. My stomach hurts." He certainly sounded sick.

He felt something flicker around the edges of his mind…a soft tapping, almost a flutter. A _request_. Luke would never intrude like…

Right. He let a little of the sick feeling in his stomach seep out to meet Luke's inquiry.

"Do you want me to have a droid come check you out?"

"Uh-uh. I…I think I just need to rest. If that's okay."

"Of course. Rest. Let me know if you need anything."

Ben felt Luke start to go, hesitate, then move on.

He was relieved that he had fooled him; he was furious that he had fooled him.

* * *

A/N

So, yeah, I know my Force Ghost Jedi Council is small, but too many characters can get confusing. And even though Mace Windu isn't shown as a Force ghost, I like him, so he's here. They could have taught him after he died, like Anakin, right?

Next chapter: Family time for Han, Leia and Ben.


	10. 10 - Fly Casual

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

Everything is not okay. Everyone tries to act normal.

* * *

BEN

Compartmentalization. That's what the Resistance pilots had called it. The ability to separate things into neat little boxes, and to close off the boxes that weren't needed at the time. Flying? Only open the box that contains the skills and nerve needed to wield a gravity-and-space-defying hunk of metal moving at the speed of light and not die. At home with the family? Keep the 'I just bombed hundreds of people into oblivion' box closed tight.

It was this ability that Ben used now, to survive the cognitive dissonance that was his existence, and he got very good at it, very quickly. There was Daytime Ben. Daytime Ben was quiet, studious, polite. Perhaps a bit closed off, a bit sullen, but never a problem. Never anything but the model student. He kept his mind carefully shielded, never letting anything slip out that would make Luke suspicious.

Then there was Night-time Ben, whose dreams were still haunted by visions that he feared were premonitions, who had now been summoned to see Supreme Leader Snoke in the dead of night five more times, each time leaving him darker, angrier, but also stronger. None of these audiences were the horror that the first had been. They weren't pleasant, but Ben soon learned that if he was obedient, compliant, it wasn't as bad. At this point, Snoke seemed to be testing him, seeing the extent of his abilities. Fighting, Force powers – he pushed him to his limit and beyond, and it was then that Ben connected with that red, surging energy within him, hot and raw and delicious even though he knew, he _knew_ what it was and that it was _wrong_. It was the only thing that made him feel alive, and it was only after he got to that point, the point of giving in to the Dark Side, that Snoke seemed satisfied and let him leave, to stumble down the jungle path and collapse into his bed for a few hours of tormented sleep before he had to get up and be Daytime Ben, Perfect Padawan, again.

It was then that he realized just how _stupid_ other people were. How could they not sense the Dark power rolling off him? Why were they not terrified of him? They should be.

* * *

HAN

Luke's Jedi Academy was more relaxed than the academies of the Old Republic. Students were allowed to come and go, to visit their families, to take holidays. Luke felt like it was a better model, and besides, as the only Jedi Master, he simply couldn't give each student the one-on-one attention and bonding that had occurred in the old Master-Padawan system. As it was, he had to hire child minders to help tend to the younglings. So letting them maintain familial bonds felt right.

It was for this reason that Han Solo and Chewbacca were on their way to pick up Ben for a trip to Kashyyyk to celebrate Life Day. Leia had sent Han to fetch their son, urging him to have some 'father-son bonding time' while she finished up some Resistance business before the trip. Han noticed she had that drawn expression on her face that was always present when she mentioned Ben now. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he had missed his boy and was looking forward to having him around again.

However, the boy he met on Yavin 4 wasn't the little boy Han remembered; the little boy who easily grabbed Han's hand as they walked along the flight line looking at various ships, always agreeing with Han that none of them came close to the _Falcon_ , which was the best ship ever. This boy was a stranger. Taller, more serious, more introverted and intense. He greeted Han and Chewie awkwardly, speaking little, seeming to have something lurking under the surface, coiled and contained and – dangerous? Han shook his head. The Force, of course that's what it was. All this Jedi stuff, well, Han didn't understand it, but if it was helping his son contain that scary power he had, then okay. That was okay.

Han cleared his throat, grinned. "If you keep growing you're gonna be taller than Chewie."

Chewbacca grunted his disagreement, but walked over and draped an arm around Ben, causing the first small smile from the boy and getting a friendly squeeze in return.

They walked up the ramp.

"You wanna fly?" Han asked. Ben had spent plenty of time at the controls of the _Falcon_ ; had seemed to enjoy it in the past.

He shrugged. "Sure." He started to slide into the co-pilot's seat.

Han stopped him and gestured at the pilot's chair. "Nah. You take this one. I'll co-pilot."

"Seriously?" Ben looked almost pleased.

"You bet. You're old enough now."

Ben settled in the pilot's seat, eyes playing over the console, and he flicked a small smile at Han. "Cool." Chewbacca ruffled his hair and gave him an approving growl before settling into the navigator's seat.

"Okay, so…" Han tapped a few keys on the on-board computer and the pre-takeoff checklist for the YT-1300 appeared. "Always use the checklist. Once you've done this so many time you think you don't need the checklist, that's when you _really_ need to use the checklist."

"You don't always use the checklist."

"I'm Han Solo."

Ben rolled his eyes.

"Okay. Go ahead."

Ben worked through the pre-takeoff tasks. "Fuel – both; mixture – rich; throttle – slight; prime; master switch on." He looked out the canopy, scanned the area. "Clear. Engine start."

The powerful engines hummed, then whined then roared to life.

Han nodded. "Good."

"Pressure good, instruments good. Strap in."

They all fastened their harnesses.

Ben glanced at his father. "Are we ready?"

"You're the pilot. Are we?"

Ben glanced over everything. "Yep." He engaged the anti-grav drive and the ship lifted off, swiftly leaving the atmosphere.

"Now, calculate the jump and take us into hyperspace so we can pick up your mother."

Ben tapped a few keys, plotted the course to D'Qar, and eased the hyperspace throttle forward. Stars blurred and they shot forward.

Han beamed. "Smooth! I couldn't have done better myself. Now it's just straight and level all the way home."

* * *

BEN

Ben grinned, pleased with himself, pleased with the praise, pleased with the _normalness_.

The flight was uneventful, and he found himself relaxing, enjoying the familiar camaraderie of his dad and Uncle Chewie in the cockpit. This, more than any of the apartments or quarters they had lived in, was home. The Falcon was the one constant in a life of upheaval. He ran his hand along the worn fabric of the pilot's chair and stared out the huge viewport. What would it be like to just do this, just fly around, hauling cargo, using a set of skills that came from your own brain and hands and not the Force? What would it be like to live his father's life? He sighed. He would never know.

An alarm dinged, letting them know they were reaching their destination.

Time for landing.

"Okay, you remember how to do this?" his dad asked.

"Sure." Ben started the landing sequence as they dropped out of hyperspace. It went smoothly enough at first, but Ben undershot the re-entry corridor - got the angle a little off - and they hit the planet's atmosphere too steeply, the friction converting energy to heat that danced, glowing orange, on the _Falcon_ 's leading edge.

Alarms were blaring. The ship was shaking, buffeted by the atmosphere's drag.

"Add power!" Han shouted.

Ben did, correcting the angle enough that the heat dissipated – but now their speed was too high.

His father was yelling, "You're coming in too hot! Reverse thrusters!"

Ben pushed a button, but it didn't slow them down. It canted them to the left, pushing them against their seatbelts.

"NO! _Reverse_ thrusters! Not right thrusters!"

Dad was pushing buttons now, getting in Ben's way, confusing him, pissing him off. "I can _do_ it, Dad!" He flicked a switch, finally slowing their descent, but not enough, and they were still not level.

"You're going to hit on the left first and bend the lifter."

"I can fix it!" He reached for the left thruster to correct the angle. "I got it, I got it!" That sped up their descent again, though, and angled them too far in the other direction. No matter what he tried, he couldn't seem to return the Falcon to level flight, and the ground was rushing up at them way too fast.

His father decided it was time to take over. "My ship."

"NO!" Something red and angry hummed through Ben's body, buzzed in his veins, swirled out and around the ship. The descent slowed, almost stopped. The ship levelled and hung there, hovering in mid-air, and Ben lowered it far more slowly and gently than thrusters ever could. The lifters touched the ground so softly that the three people inside didn't even feel it.

"There!" Ben unsnapped his harness and swung out of the pilot's seat. "No bent metal. Not a scratch." And he stomped out of the cockpit, the exterior door whooshing and the ramp descending well before he got to the switches that controlled them. He stormed down the ramp, past his mother, past the other ships, toward their quarters.

HAN

It took Han longer to unbuckle and clamber out of the cockpit, hurrying after his son. "Ben! BEN!"

He sighed.

And there was his wife, standing on the ramp with that _look_ on her face. " _What_ did you _do_?"

"I tried to do what you told me!"

She glared at him. "Looks like you did a fine job of it, laser-brain." And she turned and stomped off after their son.

Han sighed. "I've got a bad feeling about this, Chewie."

Chewbacca groaned in agreement.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Compartmentalization** is "an unconscious psychological defense mechanism used to avoid cognitive dissonance, or the mental discomfort and anxiety caused by a person's having conflicting values, cognitions, emotions, beliefs, etc. within themselves. Compartmentalization allows these conflicting ideas to co-exist by inhibiting direct or explicit acknowledgement and interaction between separate compartmentalized self-states."

 **"I'm a pilot, ya know!"** Well, I am – just small planes – Cessna 172, Aeronca Champ, Citabria, even a Pitts once with an instructor. I can't think of anything cooler than getting to fly with Han, and I haven't had nearly enough of him in this story, and I wanted some camaraderie between Han and Ben, so I took 'em flying. Of course, it didn't end well, but at least they enjoyed most of the flight. Since I couldn't find a takeoff checklist for the YT-1300 online (yeah, I looked – you never know what you might find!) I just used the one for the Cessna 172, pulled the basic things you do in most aircraft, added some _Millennium Falcon_ -specific terms from the books and threw that in there. And although the _Millennium Falcon_ defies about every law of aerodynamics, I decided to treat it like any other aircraft. I did some research online, including FAA Document 4.1.7, 'Returning From Space: Re-Entry', but mostly, as far as where thrusters would be and stuff, I just made it up using as much logic as possible, and used some things that are true to flying anything, like the fact that landing is a lot harder than taking off, and if a landing starts going bad, the harder you try to fix it, the worse it seems to get. I'm not sure if I got too science-y with it, or took too much liberty with the laws of physics, but it was fun.

 **Wookiee Life Day** : Yeah, I used that to have an excuse for Ben to get a 'holiday break'. Because why not?


	11. 11 - The Best Lack All Conviction

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

ANAKIN

Anakin Skywalker had never been so mellow. Well, if he were perfectly honest, he had never been _mellow_ at all. But this time, he had really, really made the effort, with the help of the other Force Ghosts. They were all sitting (well, the spirit version of sitting) together, meditating, reaching for the Force, for peace, harmony, serenity (and, in Mace Windu's case, thinking about his purple light saber – man did he love that freakin' thing). It had taken a long time to get to this point – this true connection with the light, but Anakin not only felt it, he _was_ it.

This was the state he would have to get to in order to escape the darkness – if he could break through it again.

He was ready to try.

Obi-Wan put a hand on his arm, "Anakin. Please – rethink this. You don't know if you'll be able to break away if you get in. You might not _want_ to. I'm asking you, one more time - don't do this. I lost you once. I don't think I could bear it again."

Anakin smiled at his mentor, his best friend, the man who had loved him more than anyone else. The man he had killed. "Would you risk it? Would _you_ sacrifice yourself to save him?"

Obi-wan looked down. Anakin already knew the answer.

"I'll be back."

They found Ben – surprisingly, not on Yavin 4, but on Kashyyyk.

The Jedi looked at each other. These kids these days got a holiday break? _They_ had never gotten a holiday break.

Anakin waited until the boy was alone, then focused and manifested. The barrier of darkness was still there, keeping him out, but the boy – the boy looked happier. Lighter. Anakin could see it – light shining through.

"Ben!" He called. "Ben! Come back!"

Nothing.

"Ben! You have a choice. Please. Make the right one!"

The boy looked around, as if he had heard something, but then looked away.

Anakin stepped forward. Peace. Knowledge. Serenity. Harmony.

The darkness was impenetrable. He tried, but there was simply no getting through. For once, nothing was irritating him, nothing was annoying him – he simply couldn't get riled up. He was _too_ mellow. He strained, for many Kashyyyk days, the sun and moons rising and setting, with no success. Finally, energy spent, he returned to the spirit world.

"It won't work like this."

They looked at him.

"This – so much light, so much peace – I'll never get through. I have to be angry or afraid or in despair to step over the edge. That's what did it last time."

Obi-wan took a deep breath, let it out, looked at the rest of the Force Ghost Jedi Council and grinned. "I think it's time we try to tick him off," he said.

* * *

HAN

Things had been…okay. Spending time on Kashyyyk had actually been good for them, he decided. Chewbacca and his family were so warm and welcoming and seemed to have a calming influence on Ben. He visibly relaxed after the first few days, easing into a routine of swimming, lolling around in a hammock, and playing sabacc. The dark circles under his eyes disappeared and his mood improved. It was almost like old times.

But now, as they landed on Yavin 4, Ben's tension and irritability returned. Han sighed. Even he could feel the dread rolling off his son, and he didn't have the advantage of the Force to help him. He decided that as soon as they were back on D'Qar, he would talk to Leia - really talk - about bringing the kid home. Ben was clearly not happy here. Jedi training be damned, Force be damned, if the kid was so miserable, why were they leaving him here?

The three adults – Han, Leia, Chewie – and one droid – C3PO – walked down the ramp with a reluctant Ben. Luke waved from where he was demonstrating how to use a training orb to several younglings.

"Do you want us to walk you in?" Leia asked.

Ben sighed, scuffed his boot across the ground. "Nah. Thanks."

She sighed. "Alright."

* * *

BEN

Ben stopped, slung his satchel over his shoulder, patted C3PO on his metal arm. "See ya, pal," he said.

"And I will look forward to seeing you again, soon, young master Ben. It has been far too quiet at home without you. In fact, I find myself talking just to fill the silence…"

"I bet ya do," Ben said, patting Threepio again and turning to Chewie. "Thanks for the vacation, Uncle Chewie. It was pretty sweet. Kashyyyk's where it's at." He held out a hand to fist-bump his godfather. Chewbacca grunted a sad goodbye, fist-bumped him back, then changed his mind pulled Ben into a massive furry hug.

He turned to his mother, who was looking at him with that intense stare. Her eyes reminded him of a still pool in the fall, warm and brown and quiet and deep. They were searching his, looking for _something_. He could feel her, tapping at the edges of his mind, inquisitive, concerned. . _Are you okay?_ Asking, never intruding. He kept his thoughts carefully concealed. _Fine. I'm fine._

She smiled with no joy. "Oh, sweetie. I'm going to miss you so much." She wrapped her arms around him, standing on tiptoe to reach his shoulders, holding on way too long, finally stepping away. He picked up a flow of thoughts from her, swirling, simmering under the surface, mostly involving airstrikes and explosions and _all-I-need-are-some-damn-coordinates-why-can't-anyone-find-this-bastard?_

And then there was his father. "So, uh, thanks for letting me fly the _Falcon_. That was pretty legit."

Han, for once, considered his words carefully before he spoke. "You know, you would make a great pilot, son." He grinned, "Just like your old man. Remember that if this…if you don't want…" he waved a hand at the temple, "…just remember, that path is always open to you."

Ben swallowed hard. _No, it's not_. "Thank you," he said. Han pulled him in for a hug, thumped him on the back several times, gave him what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze and let him go.

It was the second-to-last time he would ever see him.

* * *

 **A/N**

I gave them a vacation because I had to let them be almost-happy one more time.

But the next few chapters will be pretty dark. It will get better, eventually, but...yeah.


	12. 12 - Try

**Things Fall Apart**

* * *

HAN

It was the third time they had argued since returning to D'Qar.

"Why are you so stubborn?" He asked.

"Why are you so persistent?" She replied.

"Because the kid's miserable. You had to see that. He didn't want to be there."

"It's not about what he _wants._ It's about what he _needs_."

"He needs us."

She shook her head. "We're not enough." Pain rippled over her face.

Han turned, stomped down the corridor, turned back to her. "Why do you keep saying that? You saw how much better things were on Kashyyyk."

She smiled. That had been nice. Then the smile faded. "That was a vacation, and it was lovely, but you can't live your whole life like it's a vacation."

"Why not?"

She sighed. "Because there are bigger issues."

There it was again; that hint that there was something else, something under the surface that she wasn't telling him. He didn't like it.

"What? WHAT bigger issues? What do you know that you're not telling me? What, in your infinite wisdom, highness, is more important than our child's happiness?"

She pressed her lips together, took a deep breath and let it out. Control. She was regaining control. "He has to learn to contain his power. I can't teach him how to do that; _you_ certainly can't."

Han winced.

"Luke is the only one who can handle this."

"But he's _not_ handling it." Han balled his hands into fists. "I want to bring the kid home. Now. Today."

"No! We can't risk it! Ending his training, leaving him to his own devices – it's just too dangerous!"

"Why?"

"Han, you don't realize what's at stake here."

"Then _tell me_."

"You wouldn't understand!"

"Then explaaaaaiiiin!"

But she didn't. She just stormed out of their quarters, again.

* * *

FORCE GHOST JEDI COUNCIL

"You do realize what we're doing, right?" Mace Windu asked. He, Obi-Wan and Yoda were watching as Qui-Gon sparred with Anakin. Qui-Gon was fighting dirty, flinging insults, trying to rile Anakin up.

"Helping him?" Obi-Wan offered, raising his eyebrows.

Mace glared. "Sith training. We're doing fracking Sith training."

"A bit of an exaggeration, that is," Yoda said, but without his usual confidence.

Obi-Wan squirmed. "Well, uh, but we calm him down, too. Get him connected to the light again. That's pure Jedi doctrine. This is what he said he needed – to be able to get angry on command, and calm down on command, in order to get through to the boy."

Mace shook his head. He had some strong reservations about intentionally trying to piss off Darth Vader, even if they were doing it for all the right reasons.

* * *

BEN

Ben knew he would pay for the respite on Kashyyyk, and he was right.

That very night, he was summoned by Snoke, this time not to the cave but to another Massassi temple, farther down the jungle path. This temple was in far worse condition than the one used by the Jedi academy. It was so overgrown with vines, it was nearly invisible; a portion of the wall had collapsed; debris scattered the passageways as he walked in, and there was something – a lingering feeling of darkness that felt more ancient and powerful than even Snoke.

He knelt before the hologram, head bowed. "You called, Supreme Leader?" His voice was defeated.

"Yes, boy. Did you have a nice little excursion?"

"It was…"he considered carefully…"unavoidable." _It was the only time I've been happy in I don't know how long._

Snoke glared at him. "Your time away has made you vulnerable; has allowed the light to infiltrate you. Even now, you miss your _family_ ," he made the word sound like the vilest of insults. "You must break your attachment to them. They weaken you."

"Yes, Supreme Leader." _But I love them._

"It is time," Snoke told him, "to begin your true training."

Ben gulped.

* * *

ANAKIN

Anakin's spirit had followed Ben down the jungle path, toward a ruined temple that had the familiar reek of a gathering place of the Dark Side. He watched the boy walk in, trembling, and he followed.

Snoke – not the hologram version of him that spoke to the boy, but his presence – turned toward Anakin.

" _You_. You must be truly desperate to come here. Your light certainly will not reach him in _this_ place."

Anakin responded with an obscene hand gesture.

Snoke laughed, and Anakin felt the cold ripples cut through his spirit form.

Anakin stayed, witness to the conversation, glaring daggers at Snoke's presence as he tormented his grandson. Then the presence returned its attention to Anakin. It paused, a moment of menacing consideration, then the hologram spoke.

"Boy."

Ben still knelt before the hologram. "Yes, Supreme Leader?"

"I feel a presence here. Your grandfather. Do you feel it?"

The dark shield around the boy thinned. Anakin could feel the boy reaching out, searching for him. A thin bit of Force energy made its way to where Anakin was, and the boy gasped. "Yes!"

Snoke's lips spread into a leer. "He is here to lend his strength to our venture. To guide you in your training. To help you see the power of the Dark."

A switch flipped in Anakin's brain. Of all the low, vile, deceitful…

…he was livid, incensed, irate, enraged, fuming. He was seething, boiling rage. He stepped into and through what was left of the dark shield, brushing it aside with ease, noting as he did that he was now looking through a helmet, felt a cape swish behind him. The darkness embraced him, welcomed him back in like a long-lost lamb, and he took a long drink of it, let it fill him with sweet, sweet hatred.

Then he noticed the boy, and remembered what he was doing here.

"Ben! Listen to me!" The boy turned his face up, up, to look at him, and – those eyes, so wide and adoring, the expression on the boy's face close to some sort of rapture. Love. The boy loved him, and it melted the hatred away. He opened his mouth to speak and…

…was violently flung out of the darkness, back to the spirit realm.

He looked at the council. "I need some of that serenity shit. _Now!_ "

* * *

A short update this time - sort of a transition before the downward spiral picks up speed.


	13. 13 - While the Worst

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

A/N

Full chapter title should be "While the Worst Are Full of Passionate Intensity" but it was too long.

I wanted to put a note at the beginning, because, after the short bit with the Force Ghosts, this chapter is pretty dark. Not as dark as it's going to get but, well, just a warning (violence/abuse triggers maybe). But you all know what's coming, so…

I'm so, so sorry Ben.

* * *

MACE WINDU

"Less than ideal, that was."

Mace stared at his small green companion. " _Less than ideal?_ That was a colossal frack-up!"

"Correct it we must."

"No shit. How?"

"Know that I do not. Meditate on it I will."

Mace huffed. "Great. I'm gonna go help Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon talk this guy down."

Mace rubbed his temple. Anakin was going to need a lot of talking down. And he was going to need to stop looking like a cross between himself and Vader. That was damn disconcerting.

* * *

BEN

Training.

What different meanings a word could have. Jedi training – structured, friendly, calming. Collaborative. Easy.

This other _training_ (he spat the word bitterly in his mind) – it wasn't the fighting part that was so bad. That first night back, when Snoke had handed Ben a training saber and introduced an opponent had just been a prelude to scenarios that grew more and more…what did Snoke call them – _challenging_.

Two opponents, four, eight. And they were all older, larger, better trained, more experienced, and relentless. At first he struggled, was knocked off his feet, onto his back, the opponent with a weapon at his throat, and Snoke was constantly chiding him for his weakness, his ineptitude at something no one had taught him, because this was _nothing_ like sparring at the Jedi Academy, as if he should just _know_ how to handle any and every sort of attack. He went back to the academy with scrapes, cuts, and bruises that he hid under long sleeves. Snoke never let anything progress to the point of fatality, but close. Very close. He had no idea who the opponents were or where Snoke got them, but there were always _more._ And there were various weapons – training sabers coated with a poison that _burned_ and paralyzed any limb that was unlucky enough to be hit; electroblade training swords that administered a shock that felt like icy fire; gleaming warblades that, even blunted, could leave a gash and a bone-deep bruise; melee weapons and vibroaxes and some things he didn't have a name for; regular weapons, too, knives, blades, blasters. He learned to use a few of them, but mostly just to defend against them. The rules of engagement varied, as well. Sometimes any and all Force powers he had mastered were allowed, sometimes only certain ones; sometimes (these were the nights he went home in the most pain) no Force powers were allowed. Only a few opponents were Force-sensitive, and these not nearly as strong as he was, a fact in which he took a certain pride. Even when Force powers weren't allowed, the Force was in him, part of him and it hummed strong and vibrant through him as he fought, stronger each night, faster, harder, more instinctive than they could ever be, and he embraced it, let it drown him in red, raging power.

Eventually, he improved to the point that he almost always won. He felt almost smug about this fact. Despite Snoke's criticisms – he was weak, he was stupid, he was slow– he _prevailed_.

That was the easy part. The hard part was the, well, the lecture portion of the curriculum. Sometimes Snoke simply told him things – that the Empire had tried to instill order in the galaxy; to stabilize things, bring about peace through authority. It all sounded so reasonable, so rational. The Empire made the transports run on time.

"You've seen the slums, the homeless, the starving. Entire systems taken over by criminal conglomerates or warlords or madmen or anarchy. Seen them as your mother dragged you along on her 'missions of mercy' – and what did she give them? Some food, some kind words, a blanket – when they needed strength, protection. Those situations didn't occur under the Empire ( _Was that true? He didn't know._ ) because they stamped out such scum. The Empire created order; your precious Republic, your precious ideals of freedom and personal liberty, allow injustice and inequity to thrive."

He _had_ seen these things – the stick-thin mother who tried to sell Leia her baby for 5 portions; the Hutts with their racketeering and extortion; kids his own age, strung out on spice, walking half-naked and starved down streets, selling their bodies for another hit. He had seen these things, and they had affected him.

So what was good and what was bad? His mother had always said that freedom mattered above all else, but what kind of freedom was really more important? Freedom _to_ or freedom _from_?

He needed to work through that, but he never had the chance, because there was the training at night and always the voice during the day, never ceasing, never giving him a break and he wanted to scream SHUT UP but he didn't dare and he was tired so tired so fracking bleeding _tired._

"Your grandfather asked you to listen to him; you should. He only wanted to instill structure, bring about a lasting peace. He was on the verge of giving that to the galaxy; unending centuries of well-regulated control. Those who didn't want order, true, they had to be eliminated, but it was small price to pay, to be free from want, free from fear."

 _Free from fear._

"But your New Republic, they allow the fear and the chaos to reign while they sit in their chambers and around their committee tables and debate the minutia of each action."

An echo of words that had come from his mother's mouth: Action delayed and justice denied those who needed it most due to Senate gridlock; corrupt bureaucracy; bills stuck in committee for cycles and cycles; appropriations denied for no reason except that the Senators who held the purse-strings enjoyed denying their colleagues. The things she railed against at the dinner table.

"The Empire didn't have to wait on hundreds of life forms, each with only their own personal agendas at heart, to agree before acting. They did what needed to be done, to bring recalcitrant worlds and individuals to heel, to regulate, to standardize, to rule. To control the chaos."

 _Control the chaos._

 _Yes, please._

He needed to think. Was that too much to ask, one minute, one fracking minute to fracking _think_?

Apparently it was.

He never had the privacy of his own thoughts, never had the chance to think things through, sort things out, and come to some clarity…

Sometimes there were stories – of his grandfather, always the hero of the story, trying to make things better. Stories about history, but never as he had heard them, stories about the Sith, and the Jedi, that situated the two orders in very different ways than he had been familiar with. The contradictions, the dissonance was confusing; so confusing and he was angry, so ANGRY all the time always on the verge of exploding and sometimes he did, throwing things or, much more satisfying, Force-slamming them across a room and he did this during the day never in front of Snoke because he couldn't let him see his lack of control but frack this anger was so STRONG and it had to have an _outlet_ …

He came to look forward to the fighting, to look at the night's opponents with glee, ready, so ready to take out his rage on something other than inanimate objects, to feel fear coming from a mind besides his own, to take control of something, to let hate flow through his veins and give him power and suffocate his weakness and make him feel _good so good intoxicating liberating sweet relief._ It felt so good to win, to overpower, to dominate. He got drunk on it, eyes gleaming in anticipation as he raised his training saber and prepared to inflict pain.

It helped make up for the helplessness he felt the rest of the time.

Sometimes Snoke made comments, sly and insidious, about his family.

"They saw the Darkness in you. They sent you away because they were afraid of you, even though you begged them not to _(Mommy I don't want to go don't want to go don't want to goooooo)._

"Your father could have objected. Insisted your mother bring you home. Why do you think he didn't?" _Why did you let me down, dad? Why? Were you afraid of me? Ashamed?_

"What would people _think_? The son of two of the leaders of their precious rebellion, fueled by the same dark power as Darth Vader? Of _course_ they sent you away." _Shutupshutupshutup they loved me wanted to help me wanted me to control it and I can't I can't I can't but they loved me I think they did but then why did they abandon me to this?_

"Control yourself, boy. Manage your emotions."

He clenched his teeth and fists and exerted a precarious control.

"Your uncle is getting suspicious."

"He knows nothing. He's so busy – he barely notices me."

"But he _suspects_."

"No…"

"Are you contradicting me, _boy_?"

An invisible hand slammed Ben's head against the stone floor of the temple, and he saw stars for a few seconds, but he didn't cry out. That would be weak. Putting his hand to his head, he felt something warm and sticky in his hair. It was his own fault. He knew better than to backtalk.

"You uncle will need to be dealt with."

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

"Some simple mind tricks should do, to confuse and distract him."

"You're going to mind trick him?"

" _I_ am not."

Ben's shoulders slumped.

 _Oh._

"Do you have an objection?"

"No, Supreme Leader." His voice was flat, his eyes on the floor.

"Good." Then a pause, and he felt that now-familiar spike in his head, only briefly this time, and then laughter, like a cold ripple across his skin. "You hoped he would catch you. You hoped he would _save_ you. That fool can't save you, and hope is for the weak. It must be extinguished."

Ben felt something contract around his throat, clawed at fingers that weren't there, gasped as his vision greyed out at the edges. Just when he thought he might black out, the grip relaxed enough that his burning lungs could suck in another breath, then the pressure was back, just barely not-enough to do any permanent damage to his brain. He struggled to remain upright, but it was a losing fight and he collapsed on the dirty stone floor, gasping like a fish out of water, clawing at the nothing that was bruising his windpipe. _I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry._ Only a few tears seeped out of his eyes. When Snoke felt the punishment had been sufficient, he released him, and Ben took great gulps and swallows of air.

Snoke stared at him, wheezing on the floor. "Pathetic," he sneered. "Go."

Ben stumbled out of the temple, still dizzy, stumbled to his bed, and collapsed without even wiping the blood off his face.

Then the dreams came – Force visions, premonitions, whatever they were – so real it was like he was there. _He was his grandfather, his hand on the light saber, eliminating the Jedi – it had to be done, yes, even the younglings because the Jedi were evil mad with power they were trying to take over they would have killed the chancellor and he was elected_ _ **elected**_ _and they would just assassinate him and Grandfather stopped that and they had to go all of them…Grandfather had said 'listen to me' and he would he would listen to him because grandfather loved him he had seen it felt it and Snoke didn't but he could help him help him complete what Grandfather had started and make the galaxy safe and secure and control the chaos_ **_control the chaos CONTROL THE CHAOS!_**


	14. 14 - Innocence

**Things Fall Apar** t

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

HAN

He found Leia in the command center, bleary-eyed, going through the same intelligence reports she had been poring over for so many cycles.

"Leia, it's late. Come home."

She shook her head. "I just have a little more to do here."

"What more? You've been looking at those same reports, those same charts and maps, over and over again. Do you think they've changed?"

She turned weary brown eyes up to look at him. "I feel like I'm missing something. If I could just put the pieces together the right way, I'd _find_ them. Look, see these coordinates, and these, if I line them up just _so_ they almost…I can almost see a path that will lead me to them."

"The First Order." It wasn't a question. She had been obsessed with finding their base of operations, a staging area, anything. "Why are you so focused on them? They're not the only neo-imperial group out there."

She turned her face up to him, her eyes large. "I'm afraid."

"You? Never."

Her face crumpled, and tears rolled down her cheeks. "I am, I am, I'm so scared. I feel like something is coming. Something very, very bad. And I need to stop it."

He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned against him. "Sweetheart. Why? What's so different about this First Order?"

* * *

LEIA

She thought about telling him. She really, really did. She opened her mouth several times, wanting to let the words, the whole horrifying truth, tumble out. But she just couldn't bring herself to, not after keeping it secret all this time. She was afraid that had been a mistake – maybe he could have helped; done something. She was afraid if she told him now, after so many years, he wouldn't forgive her. So she just leaned against him, her hands clutching his leather jacket, and wept quietly in his arms.

* * *

BEN

It was evening. Only a little light filtered through the jungle canopy. Night sounds were beginning, and mist was rising as the ground cooled.

Ben was skulking along the path, toward the forest, toward the temple where he met _him_. Glancing to his right, he saw a group of younglings practicing levitation, trying to outdo one another, jostling and giggling. A stab of jealousy went through him.

One of them, a girl with wispy brown hair, looked directly at him, and smiled. It surprised him. Most of the others avoided him now, avoided even meeting his gaze. But she didn't. She locked eyes with him, and he drew in a breath. It was the girl from the dream, the one in the flower field. She was real, and she was here. _What is she doing here?_ Then he heard a single word.

 _Hi._ Sweet and clear, like a chime, in his head.

When he didn't respond, she drew her eyebrows together and scowled, but she didn't drop her gaze.

He finally dropped his and hurried on down the path, preparing for whatever new horror awaited him tonight.

* * *

LUKE

Luke was overwhelmed. He hadn't realized how much _work_ children were; how much attention they demanded. And there were so _many_ of them. Five new younglings had arrived during the moon's last orbit of Yavin. Word was getting out about the new Jedi Academy, and parents, out of their depth in dealing with their Force-sensitive offspring, were seeking Luke out. It was gratifying, but…he would need to hire another child minder, and maybe get another food preparation droid, and even with some of the older students taking on a few of the simple teaching tasks, he needed to be in too many places at once.

Force-sensitive children were just like other children, with all the normal issues – runny noses, personality conflicts, irrational fears, immaturity, lack of self-control – but with an added level of Force-related concerns. The training, the meditation, the Force itself all helped, but it wasn't immediate. And the teenagers – Luke's vague lectures about avoiding attachment didn't seem to be having the desired effect.

In addition, there were always logistical issues that required his immediate attention:

The makeshift plumbing in the ancient temple failed, leading to a nasty sewage back-up.

The freighter bringing their food order for the next lunar cycle was hijacked and he had to scrounge around among the moon's settlers to provide rations for the students.

The fifteen year old servers crashed under the burden of all the new droids and holopads, and not even Artoo could get it back up and running efficiently.

Seventeen of the younglings came down with the Guavian stomach flu.

And then there was his nephew. He had come back from break looking refreshed and rested, but over the past lunar cycle, things had changed. He looked more exhausted than ever; he sometimes slept through class; he was irritable and short-tempered. When he did any academic work, it was below sub-par. For example, when asked to submit an essay explaining the most important factors contributing to the Rebel Alliance's victory on Endor, he had simply written, "Mostly my grandfather". Technically not incorrect, but worrisome from a boy who could argue like a Senator when he was ten.

Physical and Force training were even bigger problems, not because he was doing badly, but because he was doing far too well. He sparred like he didn't even have to think about it, defeating even the older students as if they were untrained beginners, and doing so with an air of boredom, as if he were swatting away insects. And sometimes, he seemed to forget that they were _sparring_ , not actually fighting in earnest.

When Luke reached out, with words, Ben brushed him off. When he reached out with the Force, he met an impenetrable wall. He had to _do_ something. But every time he started to really take some action, study the holocrons for a real solution, contact Leia or reach out to the Force Ghosts for help, something happened, and he got distracted, confused, almost like something was clouding his thoughts.

Ben. Something was wrong with Ben. Yes. That was the most pressing issue. He had to…had to… _now what was I doing again? Servers? Fix the servers? Right. I need to go work on the servers._

* * *

OBI-WAN

"Are you back with us?"

Anakin nodded.

"Good."

They were all in a circle – Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Mace, Yoda and of course, Anakin, finally looking like Anakin again.

Yoda cleared his throat. "Some clarity I have found."

They all looked at the tiny green Jedi Master.

"Talk to him, you cannot. Action, however, you can take."

"Action? How can I take action? I'm a spirit," Anakin said.

"But the Force, you can use. Practice, you must, but it is possible."

A slow smile spread over Anakin's face. "So, aggressive negotiations?"

"Go, practice, learn to do this you must. Quickly."

As they left the circle, Mace stopped Obi-Wan. "You _do_ have a back-up plan in place, right?"

Obi-Wan nodded, sadness tinging his eyes.

* * *

REY

The back-up plan was standing on a step-stool in the Jedi Academy's kitchen, licking cake batter off a wooden spoon. It was early morning, light streaming in the windows, a soft breeze making the leaves outside flutter.

Aila, one of the child-minders, took the spoon and wiped Rey's face with a damp cloth. "There. Wouldn't want you to go to morning meditation with Master Luke with cake batter all over your face."

Rey had had another nightmare – 'the one with the rain and the black men and the screaming', she had said when Aila, having heard her shrieks, came to her room, sat on the side of her cot and cuddled her in her arms. The child minders had been taught about Force terrors, and one of their duties was to calm the little ones when they had them. This little one had them more than most. By the time the girl had stopped crying, it was morning, and Aila had carried the child to the kitchen for a glass of Bantha milk, and had let her stay and watch while the cooking droid made cakes for later that day. It had worked; the nightmare was forgotten and Rey was back to her sunny self.

Aila tapped Rey's little turned up nose. "Now, off to lessons with ya."

Rey giggled, hopped off the stool and scurried away.

* * *

A/N

Writing the Rey scenes was a relief; they felt like a welcome break from the last chapter.

Child-minders: I just figured Luke would have needed help taking care of the non-Jedi-related aspects of tending children. Since we don't know how many students he actually had, I decided to go with quite few.

Servers: Do they have servers to run all those holoscreens and droids and stuff? They must, right?

And, yeah, I had to come up with some reasons Luke is missing such an obvious problem. So, being overwhelmed with his academy and Ben being made to mind trick him - because otherwise how could he miss this? Really? How?

Thanks for reading and thanks especially to those of you have followed, favorited and reviewed; reviews make me happy. :)


	15. 15 - The Centre Cannot Hold

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

BEN

He knelt before his Master, presented him with the light saber he had been tasked with building. He wasn't ready yet, and it was – not perfect. It was unstable, dangerous looking, the cracked crystal making it hiss and crackle. Ben felt it was somehow fitting.

That voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up spoke. "It is adequate. Now that you have your weapon, you will use it for all future training."

He was kneeling, holding the hilt of the light saber; he gave a nod.

An opponent stepped from the shadows. Only one. That was odd. There had not been fewer than six in the weeks before the light saber. Ben rose, crouched, waiting for the attack, waiting for whatever else hung in the air. The opponent advanced, swung an electroblade out.

"Oh." Snoke spoke in a casual, off-hand tone. _Oh, by the way…_ "From now on, there is only one way to win."

Ben kept his voice, his face, impassive. "How?"

What passed for a smile spread across Snoke's face. "A fatal blow."

This time, Ben's voice was edged with panic. "But. W-what if I don't…" _want to? Can't?_

"Then you will be the one to die."

 _That's not fair!_ His brain screamed. No one cared.

The opponent attacked, then, vicious and unforgiving. Ben engaged, swinging, dodging blows, parrying and blocking, dancing around the room, exhausting himself, trying to think of outs - and slowly coming to the realization that he only had two choices; then narrowing that.

He only had one choice. He didn't want to die that night. And he had chosen ( _chosen?)_ the Dark side. Why should this be a surprise?

Something shifted – the Dark power, gathering, coiling, strengthening. This was not fair, not fair at all. He fed on that feeling – the unjustness of it all, fed his hatred with the venom of how underhanded this had been, of how Snoke had tricked him, _again_. He didn't want to kill this stranger – why would he - but he didn't want to die more, and who was this opponent, anyway, who was so stupid to volunteer for this duel? Whomever he was, he seemed to have no problem with the idea of killing Ben. Ben could feel the murderous intent radiating off him; could read his thoughts – that he would enjoy dispatching this untested boy, would laugh about it tomorrow - and then real rage filled him. Who was this man – this ordinary man, unconnected to the Force, relying on his bulk and his simple skill with his weapon - to think he could laugh at someone with the kind of power Ben had? He felt it, the power, flowing through him, stronger and darker than usual – not just red now, but black and solid and strong. Intoxicating. Mind-altering. Ben reached for it, connected to it, and intensified his efforts, really fighting for the first time that night, swinging and twirling his new weapon with a speed and skill he hadn't known he had, and within minutes, the hissing red light saber plunged into his opponent's throat, and the man fell.

Nausea curled in Ben's gut, but he fought it back, his face contorting with the effort.

The horrifying smile on Snoke's face grew. "Good, good. We will continue thus until your reaction does not betray your weakness." Snoke rubbed his hands together, considered. "Your performance was acceptable. Henceforth, you will have a new name. This will help you destroy the weak, foolish boy Ben Solo."

As it turned out, Ben Solo – or at least most of him – did die that night, and Kylo Ren was born.

* * *

LEIA

She awoke from a sound sleep, screaming, curled in a ball, clutching her abdomen.

Han reached over, touched her, tried to calm her. "Is it another nightmare?"

She just shook her head, heart pounding, breath coming in short gasps. "It hurts; it _hurts_ ," she whimpered. "Hurts like…cramping, like…" She was crying, sweating. _Like something is ripping my uterus out._ "Please. Make it stop.

Han bundled her in his arms and ran all the way to the medbay.

The medical droids couldn't find anything physically wrong, but it took her three days to recover.

* * *

KYLO REN

"It is time for you to take your rightful place, among my most elite warriors. The Knights of Ren."

"Knights of Ren." He echoed, voice flat.

"It is an honor I bestow on very few."

"An honor. And I am to be a member of this Knights of Ren?"

"A member? Boy, you underestimate yourself. You are to be their leader."

"Leader. And how does one become their leader?" He doubted it would be through a free and fair election.

"Why, by eliminating the current leader, of course."

"Killing him, you mean." _Of course._ "And the other Knights? They will be…"

"Resistant. No match for you, I'm sure. And once the deed is done, they will readily transfer their loyalty to you; they revere strength. "

He nodded. "As you say."

"When you have completed this task, bring your Knights here. I have another task awaiting you; an important one."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement and left the chamber.

Halfway down the path, he ignited his light saber, slashing at the trees around him, lopping off branches, hacking into gnarled trunks, leaving burning gashes and scars, giving vent to his tightly contained frustration and rage. He had thought, if only he could get through the training, if only he could get past the opponents, if only he could crush his humanity enough to make it through the next trial, he would finally have…what? Certainly not peace. Power? Control? But he saw now that there would always be one more task, more heinous than the last, more soul-crushing. He shouted in wordless rage as he destroyed the vegetation, getting little satisfaction out of it but at the same time, feeling incapable of stopping.

* * *

MACE WINDU

"Something is coming."

They all looked at him. He was seeing something, something they could not. It was one of Mace's unique abilities.

Mace had his eyes closed, brow furrowed. He saw wind and rain and darkness – the darkness of night and the darkness of the Dark side. He saw jungle. Mace didn't care for the jungle. He saw bodies littering the ground. He saw a group of men in black masks. The one leading them, swinging a crackling red light saber, recognizable by his Force presence despite his mask, was Anakin's grandson.

He was the shatterpoint, Force help them all.

And this event, whatever was coming, was as well. It was their last chance to impact the boy; there would not be another.

"What see you?" Yoda prompted.

Mace shook his head, looked pained, and described what he had seen. "Suffering. Fear. Death. So much death. An attack of some sort. It's vague. Shadowy. The future is always in motion, as Master Yoda has said, and this, this especially, is clouded by the Dark side." He looked up. "This I know: We can't stop it; it's inevitable. But we can influence the destinies of individuals."

Mace's eyes bored into Anakin's. "Your grandson."

Anakin nodded, looked at them all. "Tell me what I need to do."

Mace strained harder, focused, searched the Force. "Everything revolves around him. This could break him; extinguish the light in him altogether, and if that happens…there is no hope. For anyone. _Stop that from happening_. That is your task."

Mace dropped his head into his hands, drained.

* * *

ANAKIN

"Can you find him?" Obi-Wan asked Anakin, voice too gentle.

Anakin felt out through the Force, searching, searching…finding. Confusion flickered over his features. "He's still on Yavin 4. Are you sure this attack is tonight?" He asked Mace.

Mace gave a single definitive nod. "Tonight. _Now_."

"But there's nothing on Yavin 4 to attack. Just a few scattered settlements and…"

Something twisted inside Anakin, a cold dread seeping into his consciousness.

 _Oh no. Oh please no._

* * *

 **A/N**

Mace's ability is based on the book _Shatterpoint_ , which is considered part of 'Legends' now, I guess, but his having this ability doesn't contradict anything from the movies that I can remember, so I decided it would be okay, and I like it – I mean, it's a novel about Mace Windu heavily influenced by _Heart of Darkness_ , one of my favorite Senior English Lit class books. ;)

Gah, this chapter was hard to write and I'm still not one hundred percent happy with it, but it's here, and as done as I can make it.

Thanks to all who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed. I appreciate it so much.


	16. 16 - Darkness Drops

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

"…one boy, an apprentice, turned against him and destroyed it all."

 **A/N:** So, this chapter. Ugh. It hurt to write it. Do I even need to warn you? Well, be warned, it's dark, it's violent – but not as bad as it could be. This is the low point. I'm still not totally satisfied with it, and I don't think I ever will be. But this is it.

The next chapter will be dark and sad, too, but then there's a shift, and there's hope. I promise.

* * *

KYLO REN

Five of the older padawans stood in front of the temple; two Togrutan, three human. Four older than him, one his own age. He refused to think their names. They had sensed something – of course they had – and had come out to investigate. The three oldest had light sabers; the two younger had training sabers.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" The oldest Togrutan asked, voice shaking a little beneath the confrontational tone.

There was a long silence. Finally, he realized – he was the leader; they were all waiting for him to speak. He sucked in a breath, let it out. "We are the Knights of Ren."

"And what is that?" The Togrutan asked. "I've never heard of it."

One of the men behind him – the one who seemed to consider himself Kylo's de facto second-in-command – responded, his tone taunting. "Jedi killers."

The five students appeared to all inhale and step back in unison, but they didn't run. After the initial shock, they held their ground.

The man who had spoken nudged his young leader. "We await your order to engage. _Sir_." The 'sir' was heavily sarcastic, almost insubordinate. The man had picked up on his hesitation, his fear, and was testing him.

He could not let that go; he would have to remind them to fear his power. He glared at the man; spat the vilest Hutt curse word he knew at him, then let his anger (at everything) flare, directed it at the man and Force-slammed him across the clearing and into a tree, not hard enough to do any damage, but hard enough that it would be memorable. He looked at the others. "Does anyone else want a demonstration of the power of the Dark Side?" he snarled at the rest of the Knights.

No one did.

The padawans were just standing there, staring, waiting, tense, watching the in-fighting play out, gasping at the realization that they were not just up against people and weapons, but also the Dark side that they had heard so much about.

He looked at them. He felt their fear, smelled it, tasted it. It tasted like metal.

He felt the Knights behind him, waiting, straining to pounce, eager for blood. The standoff stretched, the tension mounting; he knew it was only a matter of time until it snapped. There was no point putting it off. They had to be…they were Jedi, and the Jedi must go. It was the first step toward the final goal: _Finish what grandfather started._ He did not hate the padawans, but he had plenty of hate, for plenty of other things, to draw upon. So he did.

He took a step forward, addressed them. "Well, are you going to fight? Or do I have to cut you down in cold blood?" _Please fight. Please, please fight. Then at least…_

They raised their weapons; he ignited his light saber, waved it, and the Knights surged forward.

* * *

REY

Rey was having the dream again. She heard the rain lashing against the building, the wind howling, the thunder crashing overhead, so close it shook the bed. She heard the screams. Thrashing in the blankets, she was suddenly jerked awake by an especially strong clap of thunder, directly overhead.

She sat up, looked around, listened. Relief flooded through her. It wasn't the dream. It was a real storm. Lightning flashed outside the window and rain slapped against the walls. She sank back onto the mattress. Just a storm. Nothing to be afraid of.

Then she heard a scream.

She clutched the blanket to her chin. There was shouting, closer this time, just outside the window, scuffling, and another scream that made the hairs on her neck prickle. She made herself as small as possible and scrunched into the corner, where the bed met the wall. She wanted her mother, but…

 _Mum isn't here. She's far away, back home, in her room with the blue and white quilt._ Rey squeezed her eyes closed and wished, wished _hard_ and she was there, too, and Mum was holding her, crooning a wordless song. Mum smelled like those juicy yellow fruits that grew outside her bedroom window. A vase of wildflowers sat on the bedside table. Rey inhaled the scent of the flowers and of Mum and rocked herself back and forth. She would stay there, where it was safe and warm, she would, she _could_ ; she wasn't really here she was in Mum's room and the quilt was soft and faded and Mum's voice was so high and sweet and she was safe…

The illusion faded.

A tear rolled down Rey's cheek. She was shivering in her bed at the Jedi Academy and people were screaming in the courtyard, closer now, and it was raining so hard and she knew the men in black were here, just outside and they were _coming for her_ even though she didn't know why. She scrubbed at her eyes and nose, wiping away tears and snot.

She was, somehow, living her own nightmare, and she had to get away.

She crept out of bed, slipped on a pair of soft, flexible boots, stood at the door and listened, _felt_ to be sure no one was in the hallway. Slowly, so slowly, and silently she eased the door open a tiny crack and peeked out. The corridor was dark and silent. She slid the door wider, bit by bit, until there was just room for her to slip out. She placed one tiny foot into the hallway, then another, walking on her tiptoes. She glided silently down the corridor, pressed to the wall. In her mind was a map of the temple – one of the first tasks for the younglings – memorize the layout of the temple. She could see it, as if she was looking at it from overhead, all the interconnected passageways and rooms. She crept along, closer and closer to an exit, heart pounding.

She stepped out, back still pressed against the stone of the temple, and the rain pelted her, soaking her to the skin instantly, making it hard to see. The men in black were there, in the clearing, and other people – bigger students – fighting back as best they could. She watched in horror as one of the men swung a heavy mace crackling with electricity at one of them, saw it connect with a head, saw the student fall. Rey squeezed her eyes closed, tears leaking out unnoticed, and cringed against the stone wall.

She knew there was a path just across the clearing that led to a settlement, to people, and if she could just get there…

She took a breath and darted out, across the clearing, fast, so fast, feet slipping in the mud and there were people lying in the mud not moving not moving…

Don't think about it! Just run! The path is right there…

And then someone was in front of her, blocking her way. A teenager, trying to defend himself, stumbling into her. Rey backed away, fell, scrambled back on her hands, slipping in the mud and now the scream she heard was her own. Then a flash of red, crackling and sizzling, impaled the figure above her.

Then he was advancing toward her, and she scrabbled toward the path, half crawling, half walking, but he was bearing down on her and she would never make it, she would never make it! The rain seemed to slacken and she saw that she was under trees, she was in the path, and the man was standing over her, blocking her view of the other men in black. He was holding the light saber, rain hissing off it, but he made no move to swing it.

* * *

KYLO REN /BEN

He stared at the little girl – how old was she? Five, six, maybe?

The only good dream he had ever had.

He had to shout to be heard over the rain, through the mask. His voice was harsh. "Run. Fast."

There was a threat implicit in the command: _So I don't get you._

And also a plea: _So I don't have to get you_.

Rey blinked once, turned, and ran.

* * *

ANAKIN

"We can't go in with you," Obi-Wan said. The darkness around the Jedi Academy was thick, palpable. They couldn't get through it. Anakin had to go alone.

He looked at the others, gaining strength from each of them – his undeserved steadfast friends. "I can do this."

Mace touched his arm. "Remember, step into the edge of the darkness, but then pull back. Don't let it consume you."

Anakin took a step forward. Looked back at Mace. "Are you sure? Are you sure we can't stop it?"

Mace shook his head, radiating regret. "If you try, you'll fail altogether. Keep your focus on your target. And may the Force be with you."

Anakin nodded, stepped forward, and was engulfed by the Darkness. He felt it swirling around him, tendrils working their way into his mind. He allowed himself to take a single long taste of the darkness; he drank it in, savored it, and let it out. He would not be distracted.

He looked around at his surroundings. Chaos. People running, screaming. A man in black – not Ben – swung a mace at…someone small…

 _Oh, no. Not this. Anything but this. Please…_

Why this? Why did it have to be this, again? Why, of all the things, of all the horrors, why _this?_

A face swam into his head – tiny, with yellow hair _. "Master Skywalker, there are too many of them. What are we going to do?"_

He knew. Because of him. _He_ was, at least partially, the reason it was this. Just like Coruscant. A repetition, an initiation, an imitation. A vile, dirty trick.

He clenched his fists. _No._ He would not let this go any further.

He saw a flickering red light just inside the temple and made his way purposefully in that direction. His grandson was standing over a girl two heads shorter than him. She was unarmed, clutching a data pad in both hands in front of her like a shield. Her feet were braced, her expression one of stark terror. A dozen or so smaller shadows moved behind her.

The boy took a step forward, spun the saber behind his back.

A scream filled Anakin's mind. _No. No no no no no no!_

He held a hand out toward his grandson, summoned all the Force power he could in his spirit form, directed it, and watched as the boy slumped to the stone floor like a sack of wet sand.

The girl stood frozen for a beat, unbelieving, then herded the younglings away, out of the temple. "Go, GO!"

With a wave of his hand, Anakin Force-pushed his grandson into a hidden alcove. _You'll thank me for this later, dumbass,_ he thought, pain and regret twisting in him. _Like when you don't see their little faces and their little bodies in your nightmares. Every. Single. Night. Forever._

He stared down at the boy – no longer a boy, really, a man, in a shining black helmet. A wave of sadness threatened to drown him, but he pushed it away. He had done something. Not enough, not nearly enough. They would still die, all of them, again. All he had been able to do was minimize the blood on his grandson's hands – for the time being. The boy was firmly in the grasp of the darkness, Anakin could see it – but he could also see the light that remained, that would have been blotted out, maybe completely, if he hadn't intervened. He gathered what strength he had left.

There was one more thing he could do. Luke.

He found him, in the communications room with Artoo, sending a panicked distress signal.

The room had a heavy durasteel door. If it was closed and locked, no one could get in or out, and it would take a good deal of time and effort for Luke to cut through it with his light saber; it would hold him for long enough. Anakin summoned the Force and slammed the door to the room. slammed the lock to with the last bit of energy he had, then felt himself fading, drifting back across the barrier to the spirit world.

Had it been enough? He didn't know.

* * *

KYLO REN

He sat up. It felt like someone had hit him in the back of the head with a boulder. He was groggy, like when he woke up during the wrong stage of sleep. It took him a few minutes to get his bearings; all around him was dark and silent.

He tried to rub the back of his throbbing head but couldn't because of the mask. He reached up, removed it, touched the aching spot gingerly, expecting to feel blood or at least a painful knot. But there was nothing.

But someone, or something, had hit him.

Not one of the Knights. If it had been one of them, he would be dead now.

His brain didn't seem to be working as quickly as it should. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, trying to remember…

 _The clearing. The rain. The Togrutan, the two humans. His classmates. Barely a fight. He had killed them._ He shuddered, fighting the sick feeling in his gut. _The other Togrutan and the youngest human, cut down by the Knights. Others, disturbed by the noise, running out of the temple. The little girl, the one from his dream– she got away. Yes. A flood of relief. She got away, she got away. The Knights cutting a swath through the others, ruthless, rapid. The oldest Knight, nudging him. Reminding him of his mission. Running into the temple. The adolescent girl, unarmed, face ashen under the warm brown of her skin, shielding the younglings. One of them clinging to her robes with a tiny hand. His light saber, crackling, raised, poised to strike…_

 _Then oblivion._

 _Who hit me?_

For a second, he felt something – a memory of a presence.

 _Grandfather?_

 _I will listen to you. I will. Just show me…please…_

No answer.

Nothing. Silence.

Silence _everywhere._

The Academy had always been a riot of Force presences, swirling and mixing together, swooping and looping around in countless combinations, a kind of background noise that became so normal it went unnoticed.

Now there was nothing. An absence that roared in his head.

It was over. It was over; it had happened but, other than that initial assault, he hadn't done it. Of this he was certain.

He couldn't let the Knights know that. Or (he shivered) Snoke. Of that he was even more certain.

He dragged himself to his feet, put the helmet back on, stumbled out of the alcove, and walked outside, oblivious to the rain.

The muddy ground was littered with bodies. The Knights stood in a tight formation in the clearing. Did they know? He reached out, sampling their thoughts – no. They had been swept up in the chaos, the fog of war, they had only known what they were doing in the moment. He grimaced – images of fleeing younglings hitting the ground; one of the Knights going through the temple, kicking in doors, blood seeping onto sheets and mattresses…

He was shaking, hyperventilating, his knees threatening to buckle.

 _Get a fracking grip_. Kylo Ren would not stumble around like a spice addict coming off a three-day bender.

He drew in a breath, and with it, a current of darkness. He stood taller, affected a menacing air, and stalked across the clearing, looking neither left nor right.

The Knights stood, expectant, as he approached. When he was close enough to be heard, he said, flatly, "It is done."

"Did you find Skywalker?" The second-in-command Knight asked. Kylo Ren clenched his fists. Luke. Yes. That was why he had been going into the temple. To find Luke. To kill him.

He had not.

And apparently they had not either. So where was his uncle? He focused, searched – Luke was alive. He was ( _glad?)._ Ben ( _no, I'm not Ben anymore_ ) felt his uncle recognize him, and then he felt fury and horror and disgust and grief, and a question: _Ben, what have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?_

He blocked his uncle out.

 _I didn't…_

 _But I did, too._

 _My fault. Still my fault._

There was no going back; there was only going forward.

The Knights were still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

He shook his head. He needed an excuse. "He ran. Like the coward that he is. But we will find him. Come. The Supreme Leader will want a report."

He led his men ( _'his men' who would gladly kill him at the first opportunity…_ ) away, toward the ship he had waiting, toward a rendezvous with a First Order Star Destroyer. Toward his destiny.

The Knights piled into the ship, jostling, bragging, even giving an occasional harsh laugh.

"Shut. Up." He snapped. He held out a hand and applied just enough pressure to their throats to make his point. "Or I will shut you up."

They stilled, and quiet filled the ship.

Yes. That was better.

He tapped a few controls, prepared the craft for takeoff.

He used the checklist. Fuel – both; mixture – rich; throttle – slight. Prime. Master switch on.

It was calming; it helped him regain some sort of focus. As they zoomed into hyperspace, he pushed away the fog that lingered in his brain, and determined to do something he had never dared - find a way to truly and completely deceive his master.

* * *

 **A/N**

I'm exhausted and glad to have this chapter behind me. I hope I did justice to this. I felt compelled to write this, and I'm glad I did, but it hurt, it really did. I wanted there to be hope, and I wanted Anakin to finally make an impact, but I also felt that our boy couldn't come through this without truly falling - just not as far as he might have without Anakin's intervention. After all, he does spend the next 15-ish years becoming the Kylo Ren we meet at the beginning of TFA.

Thanks to all who have read, followed, faved and especially reviewed. I appreciate it so much.


	17. 17 - Unmerciful Disaster

**Things Fall Apart**

* * *

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

 **A/N:** This is another dark and disturbing and violent chapter, so be warned. This is the low point, I promise. The next chapter will have a very different tone.

* * *

LEIA

A disturbance in the Force could be explained as a ripple – the kind created when a stone was dropped into a still pond, ripples moving out from it in circles, disturbing the calm surface of the water.

It was not a ripple that woke Leia. It was a hurricane.

Seconds later, the emergency commlink started beeping; when she heard Luke's message, the panic, the terror in it, in conjunction with the hurricane in her mind, she leapt out of bed, adrenaline pumping.

Luke's message was short; they were being attacked, he didn't know why or by whom, but they needed help.

 _Attacked? The Jedi Academy?_

Then:

 _Ben._

Was he in danger? Hurt? Worse? Fear coursed through her, and an undercurrent of dread she couldn't (didn't want to?) acknowledge.

It was only due to the countless drills and simulations that she was able to function. She threw on a jacket, pants, shoes, and ran out of her living quarters toward the command center, Han behind her.

She was in the command center seconds after the signal came through, hand flipping the switch that set everything in motion – pilots to X-Wings, soldiers to transports, all systems go, all personnel to battle stations. She did it all automatically, from the sense memory created by repetition. It was a good thing, too, because the hurricane was still crashing through her mind, and each wave seemed to be screaming, louder and louder, _Ben, Ben, Ben_.

Once all was in motion, she turned over the command center to Admiral Statura and she and Han boarded the transport. Whatever had happened, she should be there personally for Luke – and more importantly, she needed to find her son.

* * *

LUKE

He had just sent the distress signal when he heard the door slam behind him. It was an old-style manual door – no key pad. He grabbed the handle, but it was locked. He tried to open it with the Force, but even that didn't work. Why would they lock him in? Why not kill him? So he would have to live with it? So he would have to know, have to forever _know_ he should have been out there, know that this was his fault?

By the time he managed to hack through the durasteel door with his lightsaber, it was over. He knew what had happened; he could feel it; the silent emptiness. He stumbled out of the temple, into the courtyard, Artoo following. What he saw left him sick, gutted him. Fire, coming from somewhere in the temple. Bodies, everywhere, small, helpless, still. He collapsed to his knees, leaned on Artoo and wept.

Ben. He had felt him, so briefly, had known the truth in that single instant. _How could he?_ _I should have known. I should have stopped it, oh so long ago. How could I have been so blind?_ He had failed, and they had died, all of them. He had failed them, he had failed his nephew…

And now – new horror – who had he called for help? The Resistance. Leia. Han. He couldn't, he _couldn't_ face her. She had trusted him to save her son from the Dark side, and instead he might as well have offered the boy up to Snoke like a gift. He had to go, had to leave. Maybe it was the cowardly choice, but he couldn't face any other. He left a final message with Artoo, told his trusty droid goodbye and took off in a non-descript ship.

* * *

KYLO REN

 _Norin. Tyfa. Kel. Norin. Tyfa. Kel. Norin. Tyfa. Kel. Norin. Tyfa. Kel._

Those were their names. The names of his three classmates that he had personally killed. They kept running through his head in an endless loop. Nothing he did could make it stop.

The rest of the Knights were sleeping. _Sleeping_. But not him. He was being driven slowly mad by _NorinTyfaKel._

He deserved it, of course, and much worse.

But so did the others, and they were sleeping. They felt no guilt, no remorse. He did. Because he was weak, and the light still called to him. This hadn't extinguished it, as it should have. He knew why. Because he had not actually fulfilled the mission the Supreme Leader set for him: 'The Jedi must go; that was what your grandfather started with; you must finish what he started. In this way, you will fully embrace the power of the Dark Side, as he did.'

 _Who hit me? I should kill them._

 _Norin. Tyfa. Kel._

 _How many more names would be running through my brain if whomever-it-was hadn't knocked me cold?_

 _Who hit me? I should thank them_.

 _Norin. Tyfa. Kel._

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Perhaps if he acknowledged them, somehow.

 _Norin. I've never been more proud than when I actually won a sparring match with you when I was eleven and you were fourteen. You were strong and brave and fearless – and a bit of a dick sometimes, but that was just you._

 _Tyfa: You always let me borrow the charger for your datapad, because I kept breaking mine, that first year. Also you let me copy your notes from history class. Thank you._

 _Kel: You were one of those rare people who was popular because you were truly nice. You radiated light, but never judged anyone. You liked me. You actually liked me._

 _Norin, Tyfa, Kel: I'm sorry. Luke: I'm sorry. Everyone: I'm sorry._

Not enough. There would never be enough sorry. He frowned. That was Ben Solo speaking. _Shut up, you weak little fool._ And the others slept. How? He had seen their thoughts, what they did – they were not sorry.

Guilt, remorse, comapassion. Weaknesses they did not have.

That led him back to a more pressing issue: how to hide it. How to hide the remorse that was eating at him; how to hide the fact that he had not fully carried out his mission. How to hide the flicker of light that was still there.

He remembered the feeling of that spike, invading his mind. Fear – of the pain, the intrusion – made him sick to his stomach. How to keep it out? He had stopped trying, so long ago, because it just made it hurt more. But now – it was imperative. Now, he was more afraid of what Snoke would do to him – or make him do _(D'Qar; Mother; Father…)_ – if he found out the truth; if he saw the light that still pulled at him.

 _Use the fear._ _It is the power of the Dark side._ He let his fear motivate him, let it take over, let it flow through his veins, dark and cold but also burning. Burning, consuming, cold fear and dread. It didn't give him the same intoxicating rush that anger did, but it felt darker, in a way, and deeper, and stronger.

A plan. The Knights' memories. He had seen them, as if they were his own. He could _make_ them his own. He did not like to dwell on them, but he made himself, made himself take in the worst images from each of their minds, mixed them in with his own memories of Norin, Tyfa and Kel, of his lightsaber slicing through them. Walking into the temple, surprised to see the group of younglings, raising his lightsaber…he ran these thoughts over and over in his mind. He imagined himself stalking down the hallway, kicking in doors as one of the Knights had done, and at the end of the hall was a nondescript door, a storage closet – nothing there. He opened the door and hid the truth there: _S_ _omeone hit me; I was unconscious for most of it; I let Luke get away. And the girl. Guilt, remorse, compassion, pathetic, sorry, sorry, sorry. The light, buried but not extinguished_. He closed the door on the truth; an uninteresting door not worth opening. He used the Force, used his fear, to make this true. A sort of reverse-mind-trick to block out any interest. _Look in these other rooms, at the blood, at the terror, at what I did – at what you want to see. Because that's the truth, too. I did do this; it is my fault._

It would work. It had to work.

* * *

LEIA

When they arrived, Artoo was waiting, panicked (if a droid could panic), beeping and rocking wildly. He had stopped them, Leia and Han, hadn't let them off the transport, had shown them the final holo Luke had left, the one that told them everything. The one that shattered her heart.

She had fallen to her knees, shaking, weeping, Han catching her – or maybe she caught him. Her blood like ice in her veins, her stomach twisting. Every fear she had ever had, every nightmare – they couldn't compare to this. Watching Alderaan explode? Torture at the hands of the Empire? She'd endure that every day for the rest of her life instead of this. Instead of _this. Instead of this._

She stumbled down the ramp, pushing away hands trying to stop her. She had to _know_.

When people heard the word massacre, they had a certain image of what was meant. It couldn't possibly compare to what it was. There were bodies, yes, but not just lying there looking like they were sleeping. There were open eyes, glazed and unblinking. There was blood, so much blood. There were _parts._ There were burns, searing soft skin. Lightsaber burns. How did he even have one? She realized what a pointless irrelevant question that was.

It quickly became obvious that this was not a rescue mission; it was a recovery mission. There seemed to be no survivors. Just…

Fear. For so long she had been afraid _for_ her son. Now, she was afraid _of_ him. _What had he become?_

 _Why didn't someone stop him?_ She didn't know if she thought it or said it or screamed it. Then _, Stop him? How?_ _Kill him?_ She buried her face in her hands. She couldn't; she just _couldn't_ wish someone had killed him.

 _I should_ , she thought. _But I can't._

She squeezed her eyes shut, stumbled to the edge of the jungle, and lost the contents of her stomach.

* * *

ANAKIN

Anakin was little more than roiling emotion at the moment. It took all the serenity the others could muster, fed to him through the Force, to keep him with them.

He had tried to get through to the boy once he woke up, but the darkness was stronger, and the boy was on a ship, following his master's orders, and he couldn't reach him. He had tried to reach Luke; he had intended to explain everything to him, but Luke was just gone. Gone physically, and gone in the Force. Not dead, but hiding himself. Leia, as always, couldn't see him at all.

Finally, Obi-Wan asked, softly, "What happened?"

"He – Snoke - was going to…to have him…the padawans. The younglings." Anguish swept his features; he couldn't say it. He let them see a visual that made them all cringe: _Coruscant. His eyes glowing with a dark fervor. A room with a yellow-and-red medallion on the floor. Younglings hiding behind chairs. The flash of a blue lightsaber._ Yoda and Obi-Wan flinched; they had seen this before. Then the vision shifted: _Ben. The girl with the datapad and the younglings behind her._ "That was what he was going to make him do. Because of me. Because I did that; so he would be like me." A harsh, disgusted sound caught in his throat. "I stopped him, mostly. I knocked him out. They still killed them all, but he didn't. _He_ didn't. I stopped him. Was it enough?" He looked into all their faces – Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Mace, Yoda. He lingered on Yoda, pleading. "Was it enough?"

Yoda was silent for so long, Anakin thought he might not answer. Finally, though, he did. "Enough it was. Yes. To stop all the suffering? No. For the light to win in the end? Yes."

"What now?" Anakin whispered.

"Now we wait," Mace said. "Obi-Wan does some stealth babysitting on Jakku. I watch for a shatterpoint. And then?" He looked at them all, fierce and certain. "Then we set things right."

* * *

LEIA

Numb. She was numb. She had only two choices: break into a million little pieces or shut down her feelings. She chose to shut them down.

Someone had led her back into the transport, given her a cold cloth to wipe her face with. Told her to stay there. Han – he was sitting beside her, silent, eyes staring into nothing. When people spoke to him he didn't respond. Finally he retreated deeper into the ship. She stayed where she was. People kept checking on her. Being nice, being kind. She wished they would stop. When they were kind, she could feel the tears threatening again.

The day stretched on; time seemed to cease to exist. It had been mere moments since they arrived; it had been forever, and it would go on like this forever.

Finally, something happened that started time again. One of the settlers – an old, dear friend - walked up the ramp, pushed into the transport, insistent he had to speak to the General and no one else. _Urgent, please_. Someone – being nice – tried to stop him, but Leia stood up, a ghost of her former self, waved him in with a trembling hand, took him into a small private cubicle and closed the door.

"Kes." She said, voice strained.

"Ma'am. We've found a survivor."

Leia looked at Kes Dameron, eyes dull, unbelieving. It seemed impossible. "Luke?"

"No ma'am." He pulled a blanket away from a bundle she hadn't even noticed he had in his arms. "A little girl." Kes approached. "My s…" He stopped. He couldn't say the word 'son' to her. "Poe heard crying and found her hiding in a storage building. She's about six, I think."

The child he was carrying was a very small girl with wispy brown hair pulled back off her face in three little rolls. Several strands had escaped. Her face was smeared with dirt and blood, her clothes were muddy and she was missing a shoe. Her breathing was shallow and she was far too pale. However, it was her eyes that Leia stared at. Those eyes – intense, with green and blue and amber flecks - she had seen them in her dream. They made her feel like there was still, maybe, the tiniest bit of hope left in the galaxy.

"She appears to be in shock," Kes said.

Leia blinked. "Of course she is."

"I thought you needed to know. You can search the records, find her family and get her home as soon as…"

" _NO_. We'll get her medically stabilized, clean her up right here, just us. Then I want you to take her as far away from here as possible. Let Poe do the flying; don't trust anybody else."

Kes shook his head, frowned. "I don't understand – you don't want to return her to her parents?"

Leia clenched her hand into a fist, sucked in a breath. "She goes home, she dies. Take her as far as you can, somewhere no one will ever think to look. And never tell anyone where that place is."

"Not even you?"

Her lips formed a thin line. "Not even me."

* * *

 **A/N**

According to the book _Before the Awakening,_ Kes Dameron and his wife Shara Bey settled on Yavin 4 when Poe was little. Shara died, but Kes and Poe continued to live there. So, here they are, just a bit.

Okay, so thanks for going through that with me. It was painful, and again, I hope I did it justice. Having Leia there was cruel, I know, but who would Luke call if he was being attacked (before he knew the whole story)? Who helps? The Resistance. And I needed her there to see Rey, to see just a flicker of hope.

The next chapter will have a very different tone; it will be a relief after all this.

Thanks as always to everyone who has read, followed, faved and reviewed. Reviews make me happy, and I could use some cheering up after writing this. :)


	18. 18 - Turning

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

REY

Someone was washing her face with a warm cloth. It felt nice; soft hands and a warm presence. Her eyes fluttered open. She was looking up at a woman's face; the bright light in the ceiling made a halo around her and left her face in shadow.

"Mum?"

"No, sweetheart. I'm not your mum." The woman leaned down and her features became visible; brown hair coiled in a braid, pink lips set in a way that made Rey think the woman was trying not to cry, soft, sad brown eyes.

"Where am I?" Rey asked. The last thing she remembered was her nightmare.

"Shhhh. You're safe." The woman smiled down at her – such a sad smile - then reached for a medpac and took a long thin cylinder out. Rey felt a sharp sting on her arm, and then a feeling of sweet peace seeped through her veins. "Shhhh. Go back to sleep. It was just a dream."

"…just a dream." She repeated. She was drifting, looking into brown eyes that made her feel warm and safe and at home. Familiar eyes…

Rey let out a little gasp. She had to tell her. She struggled against the pull of the sedative and the suggestion, reached a hand up to touch the woman's cheek. "No. Wait." Words came slowly. "He saved me." Just a whisper.

The woman stilled. "What?"

"The boy. The one with the black hair. I…it was him…" _A masked figure but she was sure._ Grasping for words and thoughts through the haze of the drug. "H…he let me go. Hid me from the other ones." She was slipping. "S-saved me."

Something flickered over the woman's features, then she took a deep breath and rubbed a cool hand gently across Rey's forehead and said, again, "Shhh. It was a dream. It was just a dream."

"Jus' a dream," Rey repeated, words slurring, as she floated away on a cloud of narcotic euphoria.

* * *

KYLO REN

It had worked.

Unbelievably, it had worked.

Snoke had been – not disappointed. Almost pleased. Angry that Luke had escaped, yes, but appeased by Kylo's apparent fervor to hunt him down. The secret door had remained uninvestigated, had attracted no notice. The rest of the Knights had been dispatched to do whatever it was they did – terrorize the galaxy, recruit others to their cause, hunt down unsuspecting Force-sensitives – he didn't know or care. He was simply glad to be rid of their company.

A Stormtrooper had led him to the Officers' Quarters, where he was assigned a room with a cot, a footlocker, a small table and chair. Very neat, very orderly, very sleek. He was to remain on this capitol ship and train with the officers of the First Order for the time being; he determined to throw himself into this task with vigor and commitment. He would prove his loyalty to the First Order, his devotion to the Dark side. _There's n_ _o going back; only going forward._ He would embrace it, let it fill him with power and certainty and burn away the weakness that held him back, and the light that flickered behind that secret door would surely fade away.

And if it didn't, no one would know.

* * *

HUX

It was supposed to be _his_ ship. _The Finalizer_. A Resurgent-class Star Destroyer being built in the Unknown Regions at that very moment. It would take years, but when it was completed, it would be his to command as General. That was what he had been told.

But today he had been informed that he would have to _share_ that command. Of course, he raised no objection, no hint of insubordination. One did not _object_ to the Supreme Leader's orders.

That did not mean he wasn't livid.

He would have command, yes, but _joint_ command, with this 'Kylo Ren' individual who had just arrived. A _civilian_. Ren would undoubtedly be lacking the sort of military discipline Hux thrived on. A Dark Side Force user, Snoke's personal apprentice. This made him dangerous in multiple ways.

Hux pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white. He had been ordered to integrate this Ren person into his team's training immediately. He had been introduced to Ren briefly before Lt. Phasma showed him to his quarters. Tall, brooding, not without an air of menace, but also exuding a certain instability. And he was a _teenager_ , at least five years Hux's junior.

Hux paced the corridors, hands clasped behind his back, perfectly polished boots taking clipped, precise steps.

So. He was to be fettered to an unstable teenage civilian with unlimited power who happened to be the Supreme Leader's pet project. Tremendous.

* * *

 **A/N**

See, this one isn't nearly as depressing. Not exactly happy, but not soul-crushing like the last few. Sorry it's so short; there'll be more sort of 'transitional' moments, although I don't plan to narrate the whole 15 or so years between this point and TFA. There'll be some time jumps.

Thanks to my readers and reviewers; this story gets more hopeful from here on out (although there will still be plenty of angst and trouble), so thanks for riding it to the bottom with me.


	19. 19 - And Turning

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

LEIA

She leaned down and pressed a kiss against the sleeping girl's forehead. "Thank you," she whispered. _Who are you, and how did you get tangled up with – us?_

Leia sighed. None of this was this child's burden to bear, and she had to try to take it away. _But I don't know how._ _Why didn't I ever learn? Luke offered to teach me, but I said I had a political career to worry about. That I wanted marriage, family._ A tear rolled down her cheek. _And I did_. _So, so much. But I could have learned some things. I didn't have to be a Jedi. Maybe if I had trained, at least a little, I could have helped…_ She couldn't continue the thought; couldn't even think her son's name. She choked down a sob.

Politics and love and family were not the only reasons she had shied away from using the Force. Maybe not even the main reasons. Leia knew herself. Her lovely, calm public persona hid what was just under the surface: a quick temper, a volatility, a tendency to solve problems with, well, action – grabbing a blaster, calling in an air raid. The cold hard fact that she had never really acknowledged was that she was _afraid_ to let herself use the Force much, because she was a creature of strong emotions – mostly not the soft, fluffy ones, either. What was it that had attracted her to Han in the beginning? Their verbal sparring, clever and cutting, peppered with mutual insults and biting banter and an undercurrent of competition. She liked the rivalry, the challenge. He riled her up, and it turned her on. There had to be something very wrong with someone who got hot from having a screaming match.

No. Leia had never dared tap into her Force abilities. And now she was paying the price. And so was her child. And so had all those other children.

But this child, resting in a sedated sleep, would not. Leia closed her eyes, put a hand on the little girl's forehead, let the Force flow through her, through the sleeping child, felt its currents. She didn't know exactly what to do or how to do it, so she simply thought, released her desperate plea to the Force. _Please, let her forget all this. Let her think it was all a bad dream. Let her have a new life, far, far away from_ _ **us**_ _. Keep her safe, keep her happy, give her comfort and help when she needs it, but please, please don't let her remember. Please, please, please._

Another tear rolled down Leia's cheek. _Please let it have worked._

She wrapped the child in a blanket and handed her to Kes Dameron, who was poring over starcharts. "I'll transfer some credits to your account – enough to pay someone to ensure her care until she's older, but not enough to attract attention. Have you found a destination?"

He nodded. "I think so." He took the limp bundle.

Leia handed him two silver cylinders. "This one is more of the sedative, in case it wears off. This one will wake her up when you get where you're going. Thank you."

Kes nodded, gave a sad half-smile, and left her alone.

So alone.

She wanted Han, wanted his comfort, wanted to comfort him. But when she found him, sitting on a stack of crates in the back of the ship, the look he gave her did not welcome her into his arms.

She wanted to say something: _Hold me. I'm sorry. I need you now. I can't handle this by myself. Please don't push me away._ But the words wouldn't come. So she simply said, "We should go."

He nodded, eyes on his boots.

* * *

KES DAMERON

He wasn't sure what had made him choose Jakku. Sure, it fit the criteria – located in a remote section of the Western Reaches, it was a desert planet littered with the debris of the final battle of the Galactic Civil War, a place people only went if they wanted to get lost. Of course, the galaxy was full of worlds where people could disappear, but something kept drawing his eyes to that particular lump of rock and sand.

He climbed aboard his ship, strapped the little girl into a bunk in the passenger compartment and told his son, Poe, to plot a course for Jakku.

* * *

ANAKIN

"Your daughter must have an iron constitution," Obi-Wan commented, as he watched Leia's desperate supplication from the other side of the afterlife, as her whispered memory-wipe plea flowed through the Force, as she remembered details like syringes and transferring credits.

"Damn right she does," Anakin said, trying not to remember a young, defiant face, pinker lips and cheeks framed by darker brown hair coiled in buns on either side. . ' _Governor Tarkin, I should have expected to find you holding Vader's leash. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.'_ Oh, Force, she had just been a baby. His baby. And the things he did…he was slipping, despair and guilt engulfing him. Sorry, so sorry…

"Anakin! I need you in the here and now, my brother. You can't change the past. Now, how about we focus on _not-you_ for a bit and work on the future."

Anakin pulled himself together, nodded. "She doesn't deserve any of this. She's truly remarkable."

"Well, she's been so efficient, we now have a whole new problem. As it is, my great-niece won't even remember her name. And she's sedated."

"So what are you gonna do?"

* * *

OBI-WAN

Obi-Wan sighed. _What am_ _ **I**_ _going to do, he asks?_ Skywalkers. They were trouble wrapped in tragedy.

As soon as Kes and his son were out of sight in the cockpit, Obi-Wan manifested in the passenger compartment. He had been waiting for a chance to be alone with the girl. He looked at her face, which was slack and peaceful in sleep. She was drooling a little.

"Rey. Rey." He applied a bit of Force power to prod her from her drug-induced slumber. Her eyes twitched, fluttered open a bit, still unfocused but vaguely aware of her surroundings. He waved a hand in front of her face. "Rey. Your name is Rey. This was all just a dream. You're waiting for your family."

"Mmm-hmmm. Jus' a dream. My name is Rey." She mumbled, drifting back to sleep. It was enough.

As he faded back to the spirit world, he added, "I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

HUX

Loose cannon.

The very phrase made his palms itch. A cannon, ion or laser, should never be loose. It should be secured and manned by highly trained staff, and preferably targeting an enemy.

He had never thought much about the metaphorical meaning of the phrase. He preferred to deal in the concrete. Then again, he had never met a concrete manifestation of the metaphor – until now.

Kylo Ren was a loose cannon, in every way, and he, too, made Hux's palms itch.

Ren had been onboard the ship for ten orbits of the planet in the Unknown Regions which housed the First Order's main shipyard. Each orbit took one standard 5-day week (Hux questioned why they still used the Coruscant-based calendar, but it was what everyone was familiar with). In that time, Ren had destroyed three computer consoles, left lightsaber burns on seven corridor walls, wrecked a training room on two separate, spectacular occasions, and tossed three junior officers against the wall.

Hux had tried to discuss these issues with Ren, who was part of his team and therefore, at least in the eyes of the ship's senior officers, _his_ responsibility (although the Supreme Leader had made it _quite_ clear that Hux's authority did not exceed Ren's, a fact that made Hux fume with cold fury).

Talking to Ren, though, was like talking to a black stone wall. And now, as he studied the report from the ship's medical officer, he realized he had an even larger concern to address with his unwelcome co-commander-in-training.

* * *

KYLO REN

The red-haired major was speaking to him again. Apparently this was going to be a recurring event.

"I have an issue to address."

"If it is another itemized list damages, I will reiterate my thorough lack of interest in seeing it."

Hux ground his teeth. "No. This is a new concern. As you are new here, perhaps you don't realize. A Stormtrooper constitutes a considerable investment, in time, training and finances, for the First Order."

The major was waiting for a response. Kylo nodded once.

"An investment that is only valuable if said Stormtrooper is performing his or her duties." Another pause.

He nodded again.

The major's face went red. "Stormtroopers in the medbay are not only _not_ earning their keep by performing their duties, they are _actively costing the Order resources_!" The major's voice was rising.

"Your point, Major?" Kylo Ren said, losing patience with this conversation.

"My point? MY POINT, Ren, is that you have put fourteen of my troopers in the med bay in the past ten weeks. They are _of no use_ there! _They are a burden!"_

"Would you prefer they were in the morgue?"

The major's head looked like it might explode, which was exactly the reaction he had hoped for.

"I – you – NO! I want them in healthy, working condition!"

"Well, perhaps if they were better trained, they wouldn't be so easy to injure."

" _Better trained?_ BETETR TRAINED? Their training is impeccable!"

"Then how have I managed to wound so many?"

"Because you don't fight with normal weapons. How can they be expected to prevail when their own blaster bolts are turned against them? When invisible hands grab them and cut off their air or slam them into walls? They're soldiers, trained for combat! And combat means weapons working in expected ways."

Kylo Ren sighed. "Well. It seems we have a problem. I need to train. I'm expected to do so with your troops. And this…" he held out a hand, applied the slightest pressure to Hux's throat and lifted him to his toes…"Is my weapon." Oh, that felt good. Gratifying.

He released the major, who alternated between coughing and fuming. "How dare you? I will not stand for such disrespect." Hux stomped away.

Kylo narrowed his eyes behind his mask. His voice dropped an octave. "Nor will I."

"I'm taking this up with the Supreme Leader," Hux hissed.

"If you really feel that is the wisest course of action."

Hux glared at him for as long as he could stand it, then turned on his heel and stomped away.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Finally, I got to update this story! Yay! I've been busy with annoying real life, and I've been working on my other story, but I'm glad to be back to this one. These people keep yelling at me in my head to write them, and I just have to find the time! ;) Next chapter, Han and Leia, Rey on Jakku, and more Force Ghosts.

Thanks for reading, following, faving and especially reviewing. Getting a review is like getting a cookie; makes me smile every time!


	20. 20 - Desert

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

HAN

They had not argued.

That was what worried him.

For almost three galactic standard months, they had been nothing but civil to each other. Speaking in low, calm, polite voices. Saying 'yes dear' and 'excuse me' and 'please'.

It had been terrible.

The first night back, she had gone directly to their quarters, directly to the bedroom, closed the door and locked it. Han stood outside the door, stunned. He heard sobs, muffled by a pillow. He tried to door knob; she just sobbed louder and told him to leave her alone.

He did. He went to the Falcon and retrieved a stash of Corellian whiskey from one of the smuggler's holds and proceeded to empty the bottle. When he woke up the next morning, head pounding, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, walls spinning, Chewbacca was standing over him, looking understanding but also reproachful. He gave a series of soft grunts that told Han what he already knew: drinking was no way to cope.

"I know, Chewie. Won't happen again," he muttered, trying to make his way to the refresher and having to catch himself on the wall. Chewie took his arm, steadied him until he got there, shoved him in and let him know that he needed a shower, and badly.

When he came out, Chewie had made him strong caffa and toast and insisted he drink and eat. Then his best friend dragged him home, knocked on the bedroom door, and didn't leave until Leia came out. She collapsed in Chewie's arms, burying her head in his fur, and he held her and Han for a long, long time. Finally, Chewie stepped away, leaving them leaning on each other.

'Love each other; you're all you have,' he told them, before he went back to the Falcon to grieve as well.

They tried. For three months they had been trying _so hard_. They had been so nice, so kind, so understanding. They had been so miserable.

* * *

LEIA

She threw herself back into her Resistance work more fiercely than ever, playing a frantic and despairing game of galactic hide and seek, searching for not only the First Order and the monster who had taken her child (she couldn't even bring herself to think that name, not now; not yet), but also her brother and (she didn't even admit this to herself) her son. He was out there somewhere, she knew it. She could sense him – and what she sensed terrified her. Darkness, growing, strengthening. But also the tiniest, flickering, frightened light.

She slept little and ate less. She sat in the command center until the wee hours, sometimes until dawn, studying charts, poring over every snippet of intelligence, no matter how insignificant it seemed. She recruited more spies, trying to pick up on any chatter, any whisper, _anything_. She paid the pilots overtime, having them fly farther and farther, longer and longer recon missions.

* * *

HAN

He had been spending most of his time working on the Falcon. Not that it needed work; it was perfect. So he took it apart and put it back together, piece by piece.

Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. He found her in the control room. It was nearly dawn and she hadn't left yet. A tray of food that C3PO had brought her sat untouched on the console. Han sighed. His heart ached for her, but he had to know. He had to deal with the questions that had been plaguing him. He had been waiting for a good time to talk, but it was clear there would never be a good time. So it might as well be now.

He stood in the doorway and asked, "How long?"

She jumped, looked at him. "Oh, it's you."

He nodded. "How. Long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did you know?"

"Know?"

"About…" his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Ben."

"What do you mean, _know?_ "

Han sighed, shook his head. "You knew. And you kept it from me. I don't know what or when or how, but it all makes sense now. 'You don't understand…there are bigger issues.' You. Knew."

She stared at the holoscreen, face set. "I knew there was…a threat. A concern. I didn't know…you can't think I expected _this_? That I would have let it get this far if I suspected…"

"You should have told me! He is…was…my son too! So I don't have the Force? So kriffing what? I had a _right_! Maybe if I had known I could have helped."

She turned on him, fists clenched. " _You could have helped_? Yes, you could have helped. You could have helped when he was a toddler and woke up screaming from Force terrors _every single night_. You could have helped when he was three and started sending furniture flying across the room every time I told him no. You could have helped when he was five and had panic attacks every time we went out in public because people _thought too loud_. You _could have helped_ when I needed you, when I was so exhausted I couldn't think straight, when I didn't know what to do except sit and hold him and rock back and forth and cry - but you didn't. You threw up your hands and opted out anytime the Force was involved."

Han huffed a frustrated breath. "I'm not talking about a toddler having a tantrum here, Leia. I'm talking about…" His voice failed him, then. "I wouldn't have known how to deal with an out of control toddler without the Force, I knew even less how to deal with one _with_ it. But if you thought…if you knew…I've seen the Dark side, too, Leia. Remember Bespin? If you had told me….I would have done anything, _anything_ to protect him. But no, only you and Luke could understand. Only _you and Luke_ could help. Well, how'd that fracking work out?"

She was staring at him, lip quivering, tears filling her eyes. "How dare you?" she hissed.

He thought she was going to cry, but instead her face twisted into a snarl of rage. "No. NO. You don't get to do that to me. You don't get to blame me. I tried. I tried everything. _Everything_. I did what I was supposed to do! I did!"

Han took a step back. He had seen her mad, but he had never seen her like this. Her face was white, her eyes were blazing and she was vibrating with rage.

"When it got to be too big for me, I got help. _Qualified, expert help_. The _only_ qualified, expert help that existed! Do you think I wanted to send him away? My baby? I loved him more than anything. More than myself. He was – is - a _part_ of me." She put a hand on her stomach. "I carried him; I nursed him; I still feel him. And I did what I thought was the right thing! THE RIGHT THING! And now you stand there and tell me that if I had just told you, _you_ could have fixed it? Well, bantha-shit. What would you have done? What _could_ you have done that I haven't, with all the resources at my disposal?" She waved a hand around the room, meaning to indicate the military might of the Resistance. Instead, a wave of energy followed her hand, sending tables and chairs flying against the wall, short-circuiting several holoscreens, overturning the tray of cold food.

She froze. Her face crumpled, a sob wrenching from her throat as she jerked her hand back, clasped it into a fist and stared at it. Then the tears spilled from her eyes. "You're right. This _is_ my fault. This is from me." She pulled her hand to her mouth, bit her knuckles. "Go ahead. Hate me. I do." And she rushed out of the command center.

He stood rooted to the spot. Watching her leave, he was reminded of how very tiny she was. It wasn't until she was out of the building that he whispered, "Hate you? But I love you. You know, right?"

They shared the same quarters off and on for three more standard years, but only physically. Something between them had been broken, and time did not heal it. It ripped farther apart until they couldn't even make eye contact anymore. Han spent more and more time travelling; taking this or that smuggling job, farther and farther away, for longer and longer durations. Eventually, he just didn't come back.

Leia worked, commanded, fought, led. It was all she knew how to do. It was, if she was honest, all she had ever known how to do.

* * *

ANAKIN

They were sitting in a circle, watching, waiting.

The little girl was sleeping, curled in a tight ball, on a pallet in the corner of a trading tent on a planet that was all sand and rusted out metal. Soon she would be shouted awake and told to get to work. It reminded Anakin of his own childhood. Even though she wasn't technically a slave, she may as well be.

His grandson was sleeping on a bunk, in his quarters on a star destroyer. His quarters were a mess – broken chair in the corner, lightsaber burns on the walls and door, mirror above the small metal sink shattered. The boy tossed and thrashed and sat up with a jolt, looking around the room, eyes wild for a moment until he pulled himself out of whatever nightmare he had been having. The he collapsed against the bunk, curled into a ball, and covered his head with the thin pillow. Soon they would arrive at their destination; a planet on the Outer Rim where they planned a raid to acquire fresh Stormtrooper recruits.

Anakin pulled away; he didn't want to look reminded him of too many things he'd rather forget. Instead he looked around at four sets of eyes. Yoda had not liked him much in life, and he wasn't sure he liked him any more now. Mace had always been suspicious of him; had never really believed in him, and Anakin had confirmed his worst fears when he chose Palpatine over Mace. Qui-Gon had been his biggest supporter; he had been the one to rescue Anakin out of slavery; to insist he was the Chosen One; Anakin wondered if things would have been different if Qui-Gon had not been killed, if he had been the one to train him, as he had wanted to. Obi-Wan had only taken on the task because it was Qui-Gon's dying request. Still, Obi-Wan had been his closest friend; closer than a brother could ever be, and he still was despite everything.

Anakin sighed. He had to speak up. He had been having…feelings. Feelings he felt he needed help with.

"I have something to confess," he said.

"Speak," Yoda said.

"I…I have a desire for…revenge."

"Against whom?" Mace Windu asked. As if they didn't all know.

"This…Snoke. I hate him. I do. And I know, I _know_ , better than any of you what hate gets you, so there's no need for a lecture. But I can't help it. I want to make him suffer. I want to make him pay." Anakin didn't bother to try and keep the feral look out of his eyes.

"Revenge is not the Jedi way." Mace was firm.

"I _know_. So that's why I'm telling you. Because I need help."

Yoda studied him, and Anakin felt like the little green Jedi Master's eyes could see his very soul. Finally Yoda spoke. "Learning, you are. Talk to us, you should. Help, we can."

"Tell me what I should do," Anakin said.

"Justice you must seek, not revenge. Meditate on that, you should." Yoda said.

"Justice." Anakin nodded. Yes. Seek justice. He could do that. Justice. It might even be sweeter than revenge.

* * *

REY

"Get up, girl."

Every morning, for the past two years, that was the greeting that had jolted her out of an exhausted sleep. She rolled out of the tattered blanket, brushed herself off and was ready to work. Every day the same. Get up, fold her pallet up, sweep the sandy floor of the trading tent, go to the workbench and begin cleaning, repairing and organizing the pile of parts Unkar Plutt had taken in the day before. If she got enough work done by the time the sun was at its highest point, Plutt would allow her a quarter liter of water and a quarter portion of food. If not, she would have to wait, mouth dry and stomach grumbling, until he decided she had done enough.

It felt like it had always been this way – and yet it didn't. She couldn't remember anything before Jakku, before this tent, this sand, this heat, this hunger, this never-ceasing toil. But sometimes, when she was doing a particularly repetitive task, and her mind wandered, she could almost sense something, flickering at the edges, as if there was something underneath her current reality. A smell of damp, fertile soil; the feel of water, falling from the sky and over her skin; a warmth that must have been someone who loved her once. Her family. She wanted to remember them, but the harder she tried, the fainter the feeling got. All she knew was that they were coming back for her. She had to stay here and wait for them, because they would be back.

 _They'll be back. They'll be back. They'll be back._

That was the only thought that got her through each day, until she could unroll her pallet, scratch another mark on the wall, curl into a ball in the grungy blanket and fall into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

 **A/N**

Han and Leia break my heart. I just want to cry for them.

Next time, Kylo Ren, Hux, and Phasma on a mission.

Thanks for reading, following, faving and reviewing. Getting a review makes me as happy as getting a full portion for free would make poor little Rey.


	21. 21 - Pitiless as the Sun

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

KYLO REN

They had been _summoned_.

Now he and Hux were walking down a long hallway toward the audience chamber. His nerves were on edge, cold, electric anxiety thrumming through his veins. He cut his eyes, hidden behind the mask, toward Hux. The major did not betray any emotion, but Kylo could feel his tension, as well. No one looked forward to an audience with the Supreme Leader.

They entered the chamber, pushing through tall stone doors, approaching the stone dais. Snoke's presence filled the chamber, filling Kylo with dark dread. He dropped to his knees, as he had learned was expected. Hux stood at severe military attention.

"Major Hux," the voice was a whisper and a roar at the same time. "Kylo Ren. Stand."

He did.

"Hux has sent reports of your training. I am not displeased with your progress."

"Thank you, Supreme Leader." Praise, cold praise, but praise, nonetheless. Relief flooded Kylo's veins. He had embraced the Dark side, had let it guide him in his training performance with the First Order, had let it take him over, to the point that he had done, perhaps, more damage than would be tolerated. He had been unsure, having received no feedback except Hux's constant complaints about cost overruns. But he had made the decision to ignore Hux, to let himself get drunk on the darkness in order to prove his loyalty, his commitment. To not hold back. After the…event…he felt this was necessary, whether he wanted it or not.

Apparently it had been the correct course.

"I have decided it is time for your team to proceed past training. It is time for real missions."

Kylo glanced at Hux, again glad for the mask, which allowed him to see the expressions of others without revealing his own. Hux appeared excited at the prospect of a real mission. Kylo was less so. He felt he knew, perhaps, more than Hux about the Supreme Leader's missions – and he knew his performance would have to be beyond reproach on this one. He would not be able to hide another failure. His stomach roiled.

"Major." The Supreme Leader addressed the red-haired man.

"Yes, Supreme Leader?" Hux's voice was full of anticipation.

"We will be approaching an outer rim planet called Tatooine. There, you will find a village called Mos Pelgo. This is a two-part mission. We need to replenish our ranks of Stormtroopers, so you will follow the standard protocol for collecting recruits. Remember, none more than a meter tall are acceptable. In addition, some of the villagers are operating an underground arms smuggling operation for the Resistance." He said the word as if it were vile curse. "This must be found and destroyed."

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

"Ren."

"Yes, Supreme Leader?"

"You will interrogate the operatives, using the methods I have taught you." Kylo felt a small intrusion into his mind, enough to understand exactly what method was being referred to. For a second he was a small boy, cowering on bruised knees in a cave, nose bleeding, brain screaming as he tried desperately to hide the location of his family. A wave of nausea swept over him. Yes, he had been taught that method quite thoroughly. "You will discover their suppliers, their contacts – everything you can, so that we can then target those traitors, as well."

He gulped. "Yes, Supreme Leader."

"Hux, you will be in charge of the military aspects of the operation, backed up by Lt. Phasma and her Stormtrooper squadron. Use standard First Order protocol for a prescribed chastisement of the village due to their harboring of traitors. Brief Ren on this protocol, so that he may assist"

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

"You are dismissed."

They both turned to leave.

"Ren. You will stay a moment."

He stopped, shoulders slumped, and turned back, head down, surprised that he regretted seeing the red-haired annoyance go.

"I have another, special assignment for you. This planet, Tatooine, is important to your family's history."

He nodded. He knew that. His grandfather had lived there as a child; his uncle had grown up there.

"There is an abandoned farm, far enough away from our target that your presence will alert no one of our impending attack. There you will find the place where your grandfather buried your great-grandmother, after avenging her death. That was the first time he truly embraced the Dark side, let it guide him to destroy those who harmed her – all of them. You remember the story?"

He did.

"The darkness helped him, allowed him to annihilate the sand people, the whole village. To cleanse it. That is the power of the darkness. The power you will need. Go there, before the mission. Meditate on that, and use it during the mission."

"Yes, Supreme Leader." His voice was heavy. Annihilate. Cleanse. Prescribed chastisement. Standard protocol. Yes, this mission was a test, one that he could not fail. Did the Supreme Leader suspect anything? Did he doubt him? No. He couldn't. There had been no pain, no torment. The Supreme Leader was not subtle. But it was a test, just the same.

His grandfather – perhaps he would send him some guidance. He had not, not since so long ago. _Ben, listen to me._ He was trying. Perhaps, if he walked where he had walked, touched the same sandy soil, breathed the same air, felt the same rays of the twin suns on his face that his grandfather had felt, perhaps it would strengthen him, bring him closer. He would walk in the footsteps of Vader, literally and figuratively, and he would let himself be led by his grandfather's example.

"You are dismissed, then."

He gave a respectful bow of his head and left the chamber, a heaviness settling over him.

* * *

ANAKIN

The boy was kneeling in front of Anakin's mother's grave. Anakin was kneeling across from him, watching him over the tombstone, through the darkness that surrounded him. He could feel the boy's fear and dread, almost taste it.

His grandson had removed the helmet he now wore, the helmet that was an homage to Darth Vader, the helmet that had been a 'suggestion' of that manipulative piece of bantha-shit that called himself 'supreme leader'. Anakin sneered. At least 'Emperor' had been a real fracking title. At least _he_ , Anakin, had been a real fracking _adult._ He clenched his hands into fists, and then seethed in frustration that he couldn't do anything with them.

His grandson had removed the helmet, and Anakin could see sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip. He knew that, despite the heat of Tatooine and the boy's heavy, dark robes, the sweat was caused more by anxiety than the planet's two suns. His grandson removed a black glove, reached out, touched the tombstone, traced a long, pale finger over the words Shmi Skywalker Lars, then placed his hand flat against the hot stone. Anakin reached out, placing his hand on the opposite side of the tombstone, almost, but not quite, able to reach his grandson.

The boy spoke. "Grandfather. I have…something I must do. I need your guidance; your strength in order to do it. I've come here, where you first tasted the true power of the darkness; where you used it to avenge your mother. Show me the power of the darkness. Help me do what I must do, because…" the boy's voice cracked. "Because I have no choice."

He began meditating, eyes closed, hands on his knees. Anakin concentrated, and was surprised to discover that he could see the boy's thoughts, through the swirling darkness. And what the boy was seeing was – him. Him, holding his mother, watching her life force leave her body, clutching her, weeping and wailing. Him, drawing his lightsaber. Him, slashing through the village, killing them. Killing them all – even the children. The boy was watching this as if it were _instructive_ , as if he needed to _learn_ this.

Anakin thought his heart might break. He remembered letting the rage take him, remembered slaughtering that village of sand people. He had wanted to do it. It had felt so justified, so right. Not later, but when he did it. Oh, the rush, the high, the surge of power. He had _enjoyed_ it.

But this boy. This boy looked like he would never enjoy anything again.

"Oh, Ben," Anakin whispered.

The boy opened his eyes, and for a second Anakin thought maybe he had heard him. He said his name again, but the boy's eyes, large and dark and haunted, looked right through him. Then the boy covered his eyes with his hands and slumped forward, a single strangled sob escaping his lips. "Grandfather. I will do what I need to do. I will try to have the strength you did. I will not let my weakness get in the way."

"No, Ben, no," Anakin said, "You don't have to do this. They want you back. Your parents want you back. It's not too late. Please, come back. Back to the light." Anakin's face twisted in pain.

But the boy didn't hear him. He rose to his feet, brushed the sand from his robes, and replaced the mask. The he squared his shoulders and strode away.

* * *

KYLO REN

He had rejoined Hux, Phasma and the squadron. They descended on the village in the silent pre-dawn hours, the only light coming from two of Tatooine's moons. The villagers, groggy and disoriented from deep sleep, were rousted out into the square. The babies and children, those less than a meter tall, were separated from their parents. Then it was his turn. His job was to find the Resistance operatives, intimidate them, interrogate them, and then…dispose of them.

He walked along the ragged line of villagers, breathing in their fear, their confusion, their shock. He heard snippets of their thoughts, so easy to perceive. _What's happening? Haven't done anything…hit me with the butt of a blaster and said 'get up'…First Order doesn't care….vile, murderous scum…my babies…snatched right out of my arms…who…what…why?_ They didn't know – who he was; what he could do. They kept their eyes down, their body language submissive, but their thoughts – they raced around like disobedient toddlers. But there were so many of them, and their thoughts were so _loud_ , so _chaotic_ , overlapping and piling on top of each other. It made his head throb and pulse so fiercely that he wanted to scream. He couldn't sort out which thoughts belonged to which person. He inhaled, steadying himself in the Force, connecting to the darkness, letting it guide him as he searched the faces. One man - middle-aged, face dried and lined from the harsh desert climate, hair standing out around his face in sun-bleached frizz – while the others were staring at the ground, his eyes faced straight ahead, defiant. Kylo stopped in front of him. The man cringed back, and Kylo felt the sense of hopelessness he felt. It was…not unpleasant. Gratifying, even. He reached a hand out, toward the man, focusing, concentrating, locked on to this man's face, his presence in the Force, until he heard only his thoughts.

 _My daughter. They took her. Please, please don't hurt her. She's just a baby. She didn't know about…_

Kylo stilled. _What didn't she know about? You will tell me._

The man's face fell slack _…the weapons._

 _What weapons? Where?_

 _The ones we smuggle for the Resistance. In the basement of the gambling parlor._

 _Who else is involved? Their faces!_

The man thought of seven others, and Kylo found them, one by one, pulling them from the ranks of the others with a Force pull that dragged them forward.

Once all eight were lined up, kneeling in front of him, he dropped his hand. "Thank you," he whispered to the frizzy-haired man, then turned to Hux. "These eight are the Resistance operatives. The others are uninvolved. The weapons stockpile is in the basement of the gambling parlor."

Kylo noticed a new expression on Hux's face. It was…respect. Even a bit of awe. "Ren. That was quite _fascinating_ to watch," the major said, and he almost, _almost_ smiled. "Lt. Phasma, search the gambling parlor!"

She waved a group of Stormtroopers in that direction, and they soon returned with crates of blasters. Hux turned to Kylo. "These." He waved a hand at the eight traitors. "Can you complete their interrogations here, or shall we take them on board?"

He swallowed. Better to get it over with. "Here," he said, turning to prisoners. "You," he pointed a gloved finger at brown-haired woman wearing a thick, quilted shawl. "Stand."

He waved two Stormtroopers over, had them grasp her arms, and stepped forward, hand out.

Each prisoner in turn was interrogated, probed, thoroughly emptied of their secrets, and allowed to collapse back to their knees, weak, whimpering, clutching their temples, blood dripping from their noses, eyes twitching.

Meanwhile, Hux was overseeing the acquisition of the new Stormtrooper recruits. The small children, those under a meter tall, were corralled, sorted by size, and herded onto a transport. Their crying and shrieking was loud, and their emotions were louder, and Kylo struggled to block it out in order to conduct his interrogations.

* * *

FN-2187

"Mother! Mooootherrrrrrr!" He screamed, a hand outstretched toward a young woman with dark skin and darker ringlets.

She was weeping, struggling against the line of Stormtroopers holding the villagers back. "My baby! Please, please, where are you taking my baby?"

A Stormtrooper shoved her roughly back.

"Moooootherrrrrrrrrrrr," he wailed as he was pushed up a ramp toward a hulking ship and lost sight of her.

"I love you! I love you baby! Never forget – you are loved!"

He was pushed through the door of the transport, out of the silvery darkness of the village night, into the harsh glare of artificial overhead bulbs. A Stormtrooper put a cold metal object against his arm, and it stamped something onto his skin. "FN-2187," she called out, and he was shoved onto a seat, the next child taking his place. "FN-2188."

* * *

KYLO REN

"I have concluded the interrogations," he said to Hux. "I have the information needed. Their suppliers, their contacts."

Hux steepled his hands together, tapped his index fingers against each other. "That was _extraordinary_." His lips twitched up briefly. "Well. I'll let you see to these. After the others. Lt. Phasma!"

'See to.' He gritted his teeth. There had been a meeting; Hux, who had apparently learned First Order procedures when he was teething, had explained what the 'standard protocol' for a 'prescribed chastisement' was. And political prisoners got special treatment; they died last, after seeing the rest of their friends, neighbors, family members exterminated. Then they were executed, preferably in a way more fitting than random blaster fire. Like a lightsaber.

"Lt. Phasma. Is your squadron ready?"

"Yes, Major. Your orders?"

"Terminate them."

Shrieking, crying, wailing.

She addressed the Stormtroopers who had been guarding the villagers. "On my command." They raised their weapons. "Fire."

And now only the eight were left, kneeling, faces contorted in pain or frozen with shock. Hux and Phasma had carried out the standard protocol with perfect military precision. Now they were looking at him. He focused, centered himself, seemed to grow larger, darker, colder. Even Hux took a step back. He breathed in, out, in, out, focusing on the purest hatred that he could possibly feel, letting it fill his mind, his senses, letting it blot out every thought and feeling and instinct he had. He ignited his lightsaber, gripped it tight in his fist, stared at the crackling red light for a second, and swung it. Eight times.

* * *

He did not sleep for the next three nights. On the fourth, his body finally overrode his mind and his head dropped to the side as he sat upright in a chair. And the dreams came, as he knew they would. In his dream, he was on the sandy surface of the planet again, in the strange silvery light of the moons, and he was swinging his lightsaber, again and again, and every time, the face that looked up at him, begging, pleading, weeping, was his own.

* * *

 **A/N**

I know it's been a long time since I updated; sorry – life got in the way. But I'm back.

Not many notes for this chapter, otherwise. I hope I did okay with the military stuff; the mom-Leia/scared-little-Ben stuff comes a lot more naturally. And we have the appearance of truly dark Kylo Ren here. But this is who he has to become, at least for now.

Mos Pelgo was a name of a village on Tatooine that didn't seem to have much back story, so I used it. Hopefully, there's not a big story about it that I missed.

And…little Finn!

Next chapter: Little Rey and Force Ghost Obi-Wan


	22. 22 - A Waste of Desert Sand

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

OBI-WAN

They were watching, all of them. It was agonizing, like something ripping their skin off piece by piece. But they couldn't turn away.

Anakin had stopped speaking in sentences by the time the first of Tatooine's moons dropped below the horizon. He just muttered phrases: "My fault…wants to be like me…like _me_ …why…fracking idiot…"

Obi-Wan wasn't sure if Anakin meant himself, his grandson, or both. "Anakin. Calm."

Anakin's eyes looked like they belonged to a hunted animal. "Calm? I can't _calm_. You don't understand. They – Luke and Leia – were the _only good things_ to come from me. _They are my light_. Luke, his very existence – saved me. He's why I'm here. And Leia – there's no forgiveness for what I did to her…I don't expect it, but…when I realized she was going to have a baby…I knew before she did, you know. Felt him through the Force from here when she just thought she had picked up a weird Ewok stomach virus and was puking into a waste basket at some strategy meeting. I was so _happy_. I thought, finally, a Skywalker with a _chance_. No war – it would be over by the time he was born, I saw that - no poverty, no slavery, no secrets and lies, no Palpatine – a good home and two doting parents. And now…if I had known that what I did…that it would be…do this…to him…it's worse, so much worse than when it was me. I can accept what my bad choices did to _me_. Take responsibility now. But him. I…I just can't…"

"Anakin. We're going to fix this. We just have to wait for the right time."

Haunted eyes, leaking tears, looked up at Obi-Wan. "Fix _this_? How?"

Obi-Wan just sighed and looked away. There was no fixing _this_ , specifically. No fixing the death and horror that would happen before they had a chance to make things right.

By the time the Tatooine sky showed dim purple where the first sun was rising, Anakin had stopped using words altogether and was simply moaning and intoning long, low, 'nooooooo's' as he watched a crackling red lightsaber swing again and again, as he watched flametroopers ignite their weapons and torch what was left…standard cleanup detail. As he watched his grandson turn and walk, zombie-like, toward the transport, watched him stoop and scoop up a handful of ashes, stare at them, clench them in a gloved fist that shook, then stilled. Watched him walk up the ramp, head not turning to the right or left as Stormtroopers flinched and cowered out of his way.

By the time the second sun rose and a glaring light shone on the tragedy that had been Mos Pelgo, Anakin was little more than a puddle of self-loathing despair.

Obi-Wan looked at him, sighed. "Qui-Gon," he said, voice low. "Can you deal with, umm, this?" He made an all-encompassing gesture that indicated Anakin. "The sun on Jakku rises soon and I have to go make sure a 7 year old girl doesn't plummet to her death or slice her throat open on a sharp piece of metal or get herself dead in about a thousand other ways."

Qui-Gon looked at the one he had first called the Chosen One and nodded. "Of course."

* * *

REY

She was climbing, climbing up the inside of the _Ravager'_ s service bay, following one of the more experienced scavengers – not Mashra, the nice one. This one was not so nice. But she needed to learn, and he was willing to show her how to get into the Super Star Destroyer, and how to find valuable items: drive unit capacitors, pumps, filters, inverters, magnets…even rations.

"There." He pointed at a long, dark tunnel. "Crawl into that duct. There's meters and meters a' coolant hose in there. I see it every time I'm here, but it's attached at the other end, and I'm too big to reach it."

She peered into the duct, heaved herself up on her belly and shimmied inside. It was darker than a night during a sandstorm, but she could feel the hose. She felt along the duct, crawling on hands and knees, pulling herself along on the hosing, until she found the end of it. Then she pulled out her knife and sliced it away. She heard a hiss, smelled a sickly sweet scent, and when she tried to take a breath, she sucked in nothing. Her nose and lungs worked, but it was like the air itself was gone. She tried to back out, but it was too far, too far, and she was getting dizzy, shimmering spots appearing in her peripheral vision, closing in…she sucked at the nonexistent air one more time, and collapsed.

* * *

OBI-WAN

He didn't have time to think of enough vile names for the scavenger who had sent a little girl into the duct without bothering to warn her that the coolant would vaporize and displace the oxygen and suffocate her. He didn't have time to wonder if the man was just too stupid to know. He only had time to manifest inside the duct and think _I'm too old for this_. He reached out, into the Force, reached, reached for the oxygen atoms that had all been pushed out of the area, felt for their life-giving energy, found them and pulled them in, closer, closer to the girl, pushing them toward her.

He watched as she gasped, coughed, and sat up, rubbing her head, then scrambled backwards, out of the airless duct. He sighed, relief radiating from his being. She would have a vicious headache for the rest of the day, but she would be fine. And she would now know the dangers of leaking coolant. He noticed, as he watched her tumble from the end of the duct, struggle to her feet and walk, with cautious steps, back to where the man was standing, that she was still clutching the long coil of coolant hose in her hand.

 _Tenacious little thing_ , he thought. _She'll need that_.

* * *

FN-2187

He was sorted into a group of age-mates; twenty boys and girls between about five and seven standard years. They were marched into a dormitory, a droid gave them what they were told was a nutrition bar, and…

He didn't remember much after that, just a hazy blur of sleeping on a thin mattress, eating some sort of thick gruel, more nutrition bars, and all the time a voice over a loudspeaker, explaining in soft, soothing tones the virtues of the First Order.

After a while, the times of being aware grew more frequent. Droids tended the children, bringing food and clothing. He and the others lived in the dormitory room together, studied galactic history (the Empire's version) together, ate in a cafeteria together, played on a large indoor playground together. Watched silly holofilms together at night – funny little things about cartoon animals and aliens and people who fell down a lot...and for some reason, the more he watched them, the more he _liked_ the First Order. The more he realized that the group was what mattered, not the individual. That compliance and conformity were the paths to happiness and contentment. That obedience must come above all, and that the Order was the only path to peace. The more he felt like he was becoming part of something important, something bigger than just himself, something that could make a difference.

The image of a face with smooth skin and shining dark eyes and a voice saying _n_ _ever forget – you are loved_ faded, faded as he grew to yearn for the day he, too, would be worthy of the gleaming white armor of a Stormtrooper.

* * *

REY

Her own house.

She looked around, smiled. _I have my own house!_

True, it wasn't really a house; it was an old AT-AT walker, lying on its side, rusted and decrepit and _beautiful._ Because it was all hers; no longer would she have to sleep on a pallet at Unkar Plutt's concession stand. She had something that belonged to her now; she had a home.

Making it feel all homey would have to wait until tonight, though. Now, she had better get to work.

She wound wraps around her arms, to protect them from the sun and sand and from getting scraped by the sharp, twisted pieces of metal that seemed to attack out of nowhere on the wrecked ships she scavenged. She had been scavenging on her own for ninety-two days now – ninety two marks on the wall above her pallet. Ninety two out of 1797. It was harder, in a way, but also somehow easier, than working with someone else. She decided she preferred it.

She draped her overwraps across her body, secured them with a strip of leather she had made into a belt, and pulled on her soft, flexible boots. She had had to trade five portions for them, but they were well worth it; the flexible soles perfect for climbing, but sturdy enough to prevent any injuries. She slung a bag over her shoulder and grabbed her staff and set out.

She had come across a Nebulon-B frigate the day before. It had, of course, been scavenged already, but not by her. And she almost always found things others had missed. The big stuff, like the dorsal shield generator, would be gone, but there might be some spare power cells inside. And she knew how to access the engineer's quarters; sometimes there were things of value in there, or at least things of interest, like schematics or datachips.

She found little in the way of actual salvage parts – it really had been badly damaged and picked over – but she managed quite a score in the engineer's quarters. First, a stack of small power cells that the engineer had apparently been hoarding. Then a tool kit that contained an arc wrench, a Harris wrench and a hydrospanner. Then, the best of all: As she crawled across the floor, prying at each panel, she discovered one that concealed a hidey-hole – and in it was a bottle of amber liquid. It was nearly full and was labelled Corellian Whiskey. A slow smile spread over her face. She had heard some of the other scavengers singing the praises of this stuff as they gulped down the vile homebrew that was the main intoxicant on Jakku. She twisted off the cap, sniffed, and made a face. Then she gingerly put it to her lips and took the tiniest sip…and started coughing and choking. It was like drinking fire, and it burned all the way down her throat, into her stomach and out into her veins. Why would anyone want to put this stuff in their mouth? Liquid should cool you off, not set you on fire. She quickly tightened the cap. She wouldn't mind trading this stuff. Yuck.

Having managed to trade her finds for five whole portions, plus two liters of water, she started for home. _Home._ She smiled.

Once there, she set about making the AT-AT livable. She swept as much sand out of it as she could, although, living in a desert, a certain amount of sand was unavoidable. She found a locking compartment and decided that would be her cupboard, where she kept her water and portions on the rare occasions that she had extra. Shaking out her blankets, she made a sleeping pallet in a corner of the walker, between two consoles, that was just her size, making it feel safe and cozy. She had an idea about making a hammock, which would be so much comfier, but she would have to wait until she could trade for some rope.

Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out her homemade doll. She ran a finger over the doll's orange flight-suit and smiled. "Look, Dosmit, we have a new home. And it's all ours! We'll have wonderful adventures here," she said, before placing the doll carefully in a niche that reminded her of a tiny chair. She placed the Rebel Alliance flight helmet she had found while scavenging an X-Wing on a shelf, put a single small cluster of nightblossom flowers in a vase, and watered the tiny spinebarrel flower that was growing just inside the AT-AT. Then she looked around with a satisfied smile.

* * *

OBI-WAN

She looked like an eleven year old girl playing house. Except, of course, Rey wasn't playing. Obi-Wan's heart contracted, and again, he felt so, _so_ sorry for what he had inflicted upon the girl, for what she would face in the future. But there was no other way. No other way.

His eyes pricked with tears as she crawled onto her pallet and began painstakingly scratching marks on the wall above it, transferring all the days she had spent in Plutt's tent to the wall of her new home.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Leia's morning sickness** : A little reference to Leslie Knope on _Parks and Rec_ , puking through her day with morning sickness that she thought was a stomach flu but still working for the greater good.

 **Finn:** So, there had to be some subliminal messaging components to indoctrinating these kids to become Stormtroopers, right? And maybe some pharmaceutical components, too? I'm not sure what they did, but I wanted to bring in a bit of a _1984_ and _Brave New Word_ feeling there.

 **Rey's scavenging** : Most of the particulars of the ships she scavenged and what she found, as well as how she lived, are based on the book _Rey's Survival Guide_. Technically, it's a kids book, but I thought it was really interesting, and it added a lot to her backstory.

Yes, yes I did reference the **ashes**.

So, thank you _so much_ for reading and following and faving and most of all reviewing! Nothing makes me happier than seeing a review notification pop up; literally makes my day. We're getting closer to the point where things stop falling apart and they start coming together again. I, for one, am ready. I'm tired of torturing these poor people. :)


	23. 23 - Shatterpoint

**Things Fall Apart**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

ANAKIN

"It's going the wrong way again."

"I see it," Obi-Wan said, voice thick with annoyance.

"It's _your turn_ ," Anakin reminded him.

Obi-Wan sighed and gave the little orange and white droid a Force-assisted course correction. "Blasted thing would have ended up in the sinking fields without our help," he said.

They had been following it since Tuanul. _Tuanul_. Anakin shuddered, shook his head to clear the images away. No. Nope. Uh-uh. He wouldn't think about Tuanul. He would think about what Mace Windu had told them before they left.

They trudged on, following the droid up another dune. When it veered too far to the left, Anakin course-corrected it. "Are you sure this is the thing?" He asked Obi-Wan. "The shatterpoint or whatever Mace calls it? This droid?"

"That's what he said. This is what we've been waiting for – this brings it all back together, so long as it finds her, and she finds it. Him. Her. I'm not sure which to use."

"And you're sure she's here? The girl?"

"Just over that dune – or maybe the next one – in an old AT-AT. I've been watching over her for fifteen years." Obi-Wan's destiny, apparently, was to babysit from a distance on desert planets.

Anakin nodded. "It's drifting again."

Obi-Wan redirected BB-8 once more as they crested the dune and started down it. Anakin slipped and slid on the shifting sand. "Have I mentioned I fracking hate sand?"

"Once or twice," Obi-Wan sighed, then looked at Anakin. "Are you _walking_ in it? For Force's sake, man, hover."

Anakin growled and clenched his fists. Why hadn't that occurred to him?

Three dunes, and seventeen Force-assisted course corrections later, the AT-AT came into view. The droid rolled along, into the path of a Teedo, who threw a net over him. Anakin started to intervene, but Obi-Wan put a hand on his arm. "Wait."

The droid started beeping wildly, and in less than a standard minute, a girl appeared, running over the dune, staff in hand, fierce expression on her face.

"There. See." Obi-Wan smiled. "Our job is done. For now, anyway."

Anakin watched as the girl stormed across the sand, eyes flashing fire, cursed the Teedo in his own language, brandishing her staff to drive the point home, and sliced open the netting with a vicious-looking curved blade.

"Oh, I l _ike_ her," Anakin said, eyes glinting.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

Anakin grinned. "She's gonna kick my grandson's ass and make him like it."

Obi-Wan stopped, gave Anakin a long, searching look. "You do know your family is beyond strange, right?"

* * *

 **A/N**

So, that's the end of Part 1. I know it was short, but hopefully worth your time. :) I'll keep going in the next chapter with Part 2, in which, finally, things start coming together. It'll be written as 'missing moments from the movie' so the timing is perfect since now I have the movie to refer to instead of relying on my memory. Then I'll move on from there…hopefully I'll finish this before VIII comes out.

Just to warn you, there will be some Reylo in Part 2. That doesn't mean I'm going to neglect the other characters; I'm not. This story is still largely about Anakin and Leia and all the others, so that won't change. But, some romance between Rey and Kylo Ren will happen...just some hints for now, but if that's not your groove, that's cool; please don't be mad or negative. If you're not into that, this is a good 'ending'. And if you're okay with that, as one aspect of a much bigger story, there will be more to this. A lot more. J

No updates for a week or so; I'll be out of town.

Thank you so, _so_ much to my reviewers from the last chapter! I tried to respond to you all; you make me soooooo happy!


	24. 24 - Things Come Together

**Things Fall Apart**

 **Part 2:**

 **Things Come Together**

Disclamer: TFA spoilers, obviously; I don't own any of these characters, also obviously.

* * *

KYLO REN (ben)

He was pacing outside the interrogation room, boots thudding on the hollow metal floor. He had hoped traditional interrogation methods would be enough to get the needed information; had hoped he would not have to have any further personal interaction with The Pilot. That exchange on Jakku was more than enough.

Poe Dameron. Why did it have to be _Poe Dameron_? Of all the pilots the Resistance had, why did this one have to be the kid, three years older and infinitely more confident and self-assured and popular, that little Ben Solo had tagged along after all those years ago?

Poe's mother and Ben's mother had worked together as part of the Rebel Alliance. Poe's mother, Shara Bey, had served as Ben's mother's pilot on a mission to Naboo, and the two remained close even after Shara retired to spend more time with her son _(no, he hadn't been jealous that Poe had his mother all to himself, all the time; that Shara had time to take Poe flying just for fun, to teach him about gardening, to sit under the special tree with its twisting, gnarled branches and soft green fluttering leaves and read him adventure stories for hours. Not at all. His mother was Important; she was Trying To Form A New Government and that was A Big Deal and he Should Be Proud…that's what C3PO said, anyway.)_

The two boys had been thrown together quite often, told to go outside and play while the grown-ups talked.

 _Ben Solo, only four, chasing after seven year old Poe in the Damerons' garden on Yavin 4, whacking at each other with flimsy toy lightsabers. Sweaty and out of breath, wearing short pants and thin tunics, barefoot and smudged with grime._

 _Poe, riding a miniature speeder his father had given him; Ben on a child-size speeder bike his father had bought him for his last birthday: 'I'll be Luke Skywalker; that…' (Poe pointed at an enormous white melon) 'that's the Death Star. I get to blow it up.' (That meant he got to throw it on the ground and smash it, which sounded like fun.)_

 _'Who do I get to be?'_

 _'Han Solo, duh. You get to save me from the Imperial TIE fighters.'_

 _'Why can't I be Luke Skywalker?'_

 _'Cause I'm older and I want to be him. Besides, Han Solo's your daddy, so you gotta be him.'_

 _He scowled. Being his dad was boring. 'Why can't I be Darth Vader and chase you?'_

 _'Because he's the bad guy, dummy. You don't wanna be the bad guy.'_

 _'Oh.'_

Why did it have to be Poe Dameron?

Kylo Ren clenched his fists. It didn't matter. Ben Solo had known Poe Dameron, had played with him and followed him around like a pup. Kylo Ren had no attachment to Poe Dameron. He was simply a subject to be interrogated.

He took several long breaths, reaching out, finding that dark energy that fueled him most of the time now, and stepped into the interrogation room.

Poe was…the prisoner was unconscious, an abrasion on his temple, a bit of blood running down his face. Thoughts fluttered through his mind…the uppermost being someone clapping a hand on his shoulder, saying, 'You'll do fine. You're the best pilot in the Resistance.'

Kylo Ren spoke. "I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board." He paused, long enough for the prisoner to blink awake. "Comfortable?"

"Not really," the prisoner drawled. Confident. Arrogant, even.

"I'm impressed. No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map."

The prisoner looked directly at him. "You might want to rethink your technique." Poe had always been a bit of a smart-ass.

The prisoner. The Pilot. Not 'Poe'.

He gritted his teeth, frowned inside his mask. That was enough talking. Kylo Ren held out a hand, focused, and delved into the prisoner's mind. Just skimming the surface at first, then, a harder push and the prisoner's head slammed back against the restraining device.

He saw Dameron speaking with his m….with General Organa. He tensed, muscles twitching with the effort to remain unaffected.

"I have an important mission for you. Highly classified." She slid a small datapad across the table. "I need you to retrieve something, from the planet Jakku."

Then, something strange. An image popped into the prisoner's mind: a little girl, about five, brown hair in three little loops on the back of her head, sleeping in the back of a ship as Dameron glanced back at her; the same girl, hazel eyes squinting against the harsh sun, being dragged backwards by a large, lumpy creature. Crying, calling. 'Come back. Come back!'

'Quiet, girl.'

It was HER. The girl from his dreams; the girl from the Academy. _'Run. Fast.'_

He froze. What was she doing there? In Dameron's memories? On Jakku? That meant…that must mean…she had survived. But how, why…

Then his mo…Organa spoke again. "I need you to go to Tuanul village and meet with an old associate, Lor San Tekka. He claims to possess a map that will lead us to Luke. You know how important this is. How desperately we need Luke's help."

The image of the little girl evaporated.

Dameron, nodding. "I won't let you down, General."

Delving farther in, moving ahead, pulling at the memories now, dragging them forward one by one until Dameron cried out in pain…Tuanul, just before they arrived. Dameron, placing the map in the small orange and white droid, sending it away.

Kylo Ren dropped his hand, backed out of the room. He had what he needed.

He resisted the temptation to try and probe further about the girl. Better if he didn't know.

Better for him.

Better for her.

* * *

FN-2187

His three minutes of water had long since run out, but FN-2187 was still standing in the shower. He had washed away the sand and blood from Jakku, but he couldn't wash away the memories. Of the woman…the one he had almost slammed into running around a hut; the woman clutching an infant to her chest; the woman who had brought up a long-buried memory of a woman who looked similar, screaming across another stretch of sand, _never forget – you are loved._ The woman he didn't kill. Slip…FN 2003…his bloody hand reaching up to touch FN-2187's helmet just before he died. Phasma had been right; protecting Slip during training had been a mistake. It had made him an easy target on a real mission. Of refusing to fire on the villagers; of Kylo Ren looking at him…into him… _knowing_.

He had to get out, away, off the ship. Panic rippled through his chest. One more mistake and he would be sent for reconditioning, or worse. He had to leave, run – but how? He couldn't fly anything, and they were in space. His breath started coming in short gasps. There was no way out, there never had been, there never would be, not without a pilot…

A pilot.

His eyes opened wide.

He grabbed a towel and quickly rubbed the remaining water from his body, jerked his underclothing on, ran toward the ready room to put on his armor.

* * *

ANAKIN

They were back on the other side, watching as the girl, the droid and the Stormtrooper made a mad dash across the sand toward a quad jumper, only to have it blasted to ash. They skidded to a stop and veered toward a bulky freighter that Anakin instantly recognized. _I should, I spent enough time chasing the damn thing_.

"Shouldn't you, I dunno, help? Make sure they don't crash?" He asked Obi-Wan.

"She's an excellent pilot. She won't crash. Of that I'm sure."

Anakin scowled. "Then why do you sound so miserable?"

"Oh, just thinking about how I ruined a little girl's life."

Anakin wasn't sure what to say; he hated dealing with morose Obi-Wan. The older Jedi was right; he had taken the girl away from a life of peace and ease and thrown her into one of deprivation, loneliness and peril. Anakin paced, staring at the shadow of the Millennium Falcon as it skimmed the sandy surface of Jakku. It reminded him of watching ships coming and going when he was on Tatooine, wishing he was on every one of them, no matter where they were going. He stopped pacing as something suddenly occurred to him.

"You know, if you and Qui-Gon had never come to Tatooine, I would have led a normal life. Peaceful. Ordinary. Sure, I was a slave, but eventually I probably would have been able to work my way to freedom. I would have grown up, become a mechanic or something, gone to the Pod Races every year on Boonta Eve, bet against Sebulba and lost all my money, gotten drunk and gotten mugged. Probably never left Mos Espa. No Jedi, no Darth Vader…just an ordinary guy leading an ordinary life in the armpit of the galaxy."

Obi-Wan glared. "You suck at pep talks."

"I'm not done," Anakin snapped. "Here's the important part: I'm glad you guys showed up. Took me away from there. Despite everything – _everything_ , including Vader – I'm grateful. I wouldn't trade the life I lived for that other kind of life. Oh, I'd do things differently if I had it to do over again – at least I like to think I would. I like to think I would have stayed Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight." He clenched his fists. "I like to think that. But despite everything that went wrong – that _I did wrong_ – I'm still so kriffing grateful, because I got a chance to be somebody, not nobody. And so does she."

Obi-Wan managed a bittersweet smile. "Well, I'm not sure she'd thank me if she knew. But we'll see." He stroked along the outline of his beard. "We'll see."

* * *

 **A/N**

Ben and Poe playing is shamelessly based on me and my dumb cousins, back in the late 1970's.

Sorry, Leia, for twisting the Working Mother Guilt knife. I'm a working mother too; I commiserate.

Sorry it's been so long since I updated; life and all that. Hopefully I'll be quicker next time. Thanks for reading and reviewing; nothing makes me happier!


	25. 25 - The Tightening Gyre

**The Tightening Gyre**

* * *

KYLO REN

The acrid smell of burnt electronics floated on thick, white smoke. Smoldering wires and bits of metal fell to the floor. Slashes along the wall and what was left of the console still burned, flames licking along the edges of the scarred metal. The little lieutenant stood still, frozen in place like a rabbit, eyes averted, as if that would prevent him from being noticed.

Kylo Ren let out a few long, harsh breaths. The rage had mostly passed.

He glared at the lieutenant. "Anything else?"

The timid officer hesitated…clearly wanting to be anywhere else at the moment…but his military training prevailed. He must answer a superior. "The two were accompanied by a…girl."

 _A girl._ As soon as the words passed the lieutenant's trembling lips, Kylo Ren saw the face from Poe's mind; the face from the dreams he still had sometimes. _She's running through a field of flowers. She's reaching a hand out toward him. She's saying 'hi', clear and crisp as a ringing bell in his head_. She was supposed to be safe. He saved her. She couldn't – mustn't – come into contact with him ever again. It would not end well.

But - maybe he was wrong. It could be anyone – some random pilot the traitor found to help him.

He held out a hand, lifted the lieutenant to his toes, and dragged him, gasping and choking, relentlessly forward. "What _girl_?" He growled.

Mitaka – that was the name on the man's uniform – couldn't answer, since his trachea was being compressed - not that it mattered. Kylo could see in his mind that he didn't know. He dropped the poor man, who slumped to the ground, clutching his throat.

"Dismissed," he said, and Mitaka scrambled to his feet and scurried away.

Kylo stared at the smoking console. Lor San Tekka. Poe Dameron. A YT Class Corellian freighter. The girl from his dreams, the one survivor from the Academy. He could feel something in the Force, a swirling, tightening spiral, closing in on him, squeezing his chest and making his lungs burn for oxygen.

Was it really her? He had to know, now. It was more than curiosity; it was a compulsion.

He stalked to his quarters, sat on the floor. Meditation pose – he hadn't done that in a long time. He centered himself, tried to connect to the Force. It wasn't easy – meditation never was for him, but he had to know, and there was only one way.

He felt himself drifting back through his memories. A rare event – in general, he preferred not to reminisce. He drifted, past dozens of burning villages, hundreds of pleading eyes…events that played out like holovids. He didn't feel remorse or guilt – he simply didn't _feel_ about these acts. The Dark side had obliterated those reactions long ago. He moved on, further back, to his early years with the First Order, to when there was regret, and pain, and despair. Oh, he didn't like this. It hurt; it made him _feel_. But he pushed on, further back, to a time when there was nothing but pain and fear, a time when he was little more than a boy, quaking in Snoke's presence, desperate to please. And then he was there – the Jedi Academy. He could smell the fertile, loamy jungle earth, hear the wind slapping the huge fronds of the trees against stone…and there was the hallway, lined with doors of horror…the memories he had appropriated from the other Knights…and at the end, the secret door, small and plain and untouched for so many years. He held out a hand and the door opened a crack, and he peered in…and found her eyes staring back. Brown flecked with green and gold, and hidden behind them, her Force signature. A way he could find her. He slammed the door, rushed back, away from the hallway, away from the memories, back to his quarters.

Back to his search.

He'd never done it before – he hadn't wanted to know what happened to her. He hadn't even wanted to know if she had lived, although, if he was honest with himself, he always knew she had. But he had not wanted to think about her. He had locked her in that closet in the back of his mind and never dared open that door. Ever. But now he had to. He had to _know._

And then he did.

He saw steam first, heard an emergency alarm blaring, then - a familiar interior. She was down in the mechanical hatch, hands flying over pipes and wires, something beyond intuition guiding them…

 _This is the motivator. Don't ever open this valve, kid…unless ya want a face full of poisonous gas._

He shook his head, clearing the memory of his…of Han Solo, and refocused on the girl. He couldn't see her face; he was seeing through her eyes, but he _knew_. He saw her Force signature, bright and clear. It was her.

He pulled himself out of the trance, out of the Force, clenched his fists and spat out several Hutt curses.

Why was she being flung back into his life?

And why did he wish so desperately that he could have seen her face?

REY

Han Solo just offered her a job. A flying job. On the _Millennium Falcon_. So why didn't she jump at the chance? What was this compulsion she had to stay on Jakku? Did she really still believe her family would come back? The logical part of her brain knew how preposterous that was. It had been fourteen years.

But there was something deeper that held her there. It was strange, really. Like something overriding her own mind; a soothing voice, with an accent similar to her own: _You're waiting for your family._

Who was that? _Who was that?_

OBI-WAN

They were sitting in a circle. He looked around at each face: Yoda. Mace. Qui-Gon. Anakin. "I have to help her," he said. "I have to release her from the mind trick – from the feeling that she needs to get back to Jakku. And I have to give her…guidance."

Yoda nodded. "This we can do. The lightsaber we will use. Encounter it she will, and soon."

Obi-Wan nodded.

* * *

 **A/N**

Yes, I finally updated this! My poor, neglected story! My other story has sort of taken over my brain. But I'm back with a short update here, and I'll have another soon...featuring the Force vision.

I also added a bit to the previous chapter - a new scene with Finn - so if you read it when I first published it, there's a bit more there now.

Sorry this is so short; more - and more depth - in the next chapter. I hope you liked this little update, and if so, please review. It makes me as happy as getting away from Kylo makes Lt. Mitaka. :) Thanks as always for reading, following, faving and reviewing!


	26. 26 - Revelation

**Revelation**

* * *

ANAKIN

The boy was talking to the helmet again. His voice was subdued; his tone reverent.

"Forgive me. I feel it again. The pull to the light. Supreme Leader senses it. Show me again, the power of the darkness, and I will let nothing stand in our way. Show me, Grandfather, and I will finish what you started."

Anakin Skywalker's Force Ghost was standing in front of him, beyond the helmet, beyond the impenetrable cloud of darkness that surrounded the boy. And he was anything but subdued; he was seething. He balled his hands into fists and pressed them against his temples, grabbed large handfuls of his hair and pulled, paced back and forth and flung his arms in the air, and screamed. "Gah! I'm right _here_ , dumbass, and I've been trying to show you what I want for almost twenty years; all you have to do is _look_! That's not _me_! It's just a hunk of metal that Supreme Asshole Snoke had you go fetch and made you think held some part of me. But it doesn't. _I'm not him anymore!_ If you could just see me. _See me!_ I don't want you to do this – any of this. Stop…just stop. Stop and think for a Force-damned second. Didn't my son tell you? I was wrong. I knew it…at the end I did what I could to fix it. It wasn't enough. Nothing will ever be enough. But I did some good, at the end." He stomped and swore in Huttese. "You want to finish what I started? Go apologize to your mother. For both of us. Maybe, just maybe, if we both spend the next twenty years on our hands and knees in front of her, kissing her tiny little boots and apologizing for being such sorry sacks of sarlacc shit, it might – _might_ – be enough."

The boy stared at the helmet, waiting for a reply that would never come. Anakin stared at the boy, waiting for the same thing.

REY

She knew she should be thinking about getting the droid back to the Resistance, or taking in all the strange sights of Maz Kanata's castle-tavern, or just letting the presence of legends like Han Solo and Chewbacca wash over her. And she would do all those things. But at this moment, she simply couldn't think about anything except the _food_. First, the fact that it was given to her, freely.

"The usual?" Maz had asked Han. He nodded, and she waved a hand and a platter of delicacies Rey couldn't even identify had appeared at their table. "I'll add it to your tab," Maz said, then, nodding to Rey and Finn, "Go ahead. Eat. Eat."

And she had. And holy Force, the smells, the tastes, the textures. Rey had never experienced anything like it. That spiky orange and yellow fruit…when she bit into it, her teeth sank into it and the flesh melted against her tongue and released the most heavenly juice – thick and syrupy and yet fresh, it tasted like – she couldn't even describe it. Like sunshine after a sandstorm. It dripped down her chin, and she caught it with her fingers and licked it off, because it was the most sublime thing she had ever tasted…until she picked up the bumpy green thing. It smelled sharp and vinegary, and when she took a bite it was such a wonderful contradiction of almost painful sweetness and sharp spicy heat that she had to close her eyes.

"How's the food?" Maz asked, her tone amused.

"So delicious!" Rey reached across the table and grabbed a pink thing stuffed with green herbs, and it was even better. The pink fruit was crisp and sweet, and the herb was like deep green woods – pungent and peppery, but with a cool, minty kick at the end that made her open her eyes in shocked pleasure and smile involuntarily.

It was only Maz's drop in tone, her mention of a fight, that drew Rey out of the simple, tactile pleasure of savoring fresh food. "What fight?" She asked around a bite of pink herb-infused fruit.

OBI-WAN

They were sitting in a circle, concentrating. Focused.

"From the saber the vision will come. But guidance we can send. Strength. Direction. Break the hold of the mind trick, we can." Yoda nodded to Obi-Wan. "Ready are we."

Obi-Wan nodded back. They were attempting a Force Meld; similar to Battle Meditation, but more refined, joining their minds to enhance their power. Obi-Wan led them, connected them, gathered their thoughts and emotions together. They found the girl – Rey – sitting at a table, enthralled by the story Maz was telling, but also overwhelmed. Now they were just waiting for her to hear the call. She was feeling small and alone again, like she always had. Obi-Wan looked at her face – she was full-grown now, but still so very, very young, her face soft and open like a blooming flower, and he wondered – they all wondered at the same time – 'were we ever that young?'.

They watched, not with their eyes but through the Force, as she distanced herself from the conversation, let it fade away as something else seeped in and drew her attention. She walked away from the table, following the sound of a child crying, down the winding stair, down the stone corridor. Watched as the door opened and she walked directly to the wooden box, opened it, reached out a hand, barely bigger than a child's, hesitant but unable to resist. Touched the lightsaber and…

 _A hallway in Cloud City. Anakin recognizes it, recognizes the breathing…his breathing…they're all there with him, with Luke – so young, so out of his depth, so determined._

 _They still hear the crying child in the background. She's frightened – the child and the adult. The scene shifts and she's tumbling, the wall becoming the floor. She's confused, panicked. They're mesmerized by the vision, but they have to act. There's not much time._

 _Yoda is the first to break through. "Its energy..."_

 _There's a scream…not just part of the vision, not one of them._

 _Yoda manages to over-ride the voice. " ...surrounds us..."_

 _The vision is moving, Luke is crying out, "Noooo!" They all feel Anakin's anguish; realize that even as Vader, he felt a twisted love for his son, wanted him to want to be with him._

 _Yoda struggles on. She needs to understand the Force. "...and binds us..." as Luke's screaming continues, and Anakin's anguish threatens to disrupt the meld._

 _She's wet and cold and scared, facing seven masked figures…she can't tell if it's a memory or a premonition and they can feel her heart pounding as a red light saber pierces a chest._

 _Obi-Wan fights; he knows he has to get through, has to help her. "You will be tempted. But you can not control it."_

 _He and Yoda seem to be the only ones who can speak to her. Yoda is being Yoda, esoteric and philosophical, trying to connect her to the Force. "…Surrounds us."_

 _Obi-Wan is more personal, speaking directly to her, kind and concerned, "The Force will be with you."_

 _Then another voice breaks in, the same one from the earlier shriek. "…any Jedi."_

 _She's running blindly through the woods, terror coursing through her, when she almost slams into a figure…the boy. Menacing, frightful, the red light saber hissing. She screams._

 _The vision is almost over. Rey is a little girl, standing on the burning sands of Jakku, crying "No! Come back!"_

 _Unkar Plutt says, "Quiet, girl." She continues to cry._

 _Obi-Wan struggles, fights to get through one more time. He's done this to her, he has to help her._

 _"Rey? These are your first steps." He waves a hand, across time and space, and releases her from the mind trick that kept her rooted on Jakku._

 _Then it's over, and Maz has found her, and when she says "I have to get back to Jakku," the words no longer have the power they once did, and she cries, knowing that no one is coming back for her. That no one ever was, and Obi-Wan releases his hold on the Force, retreats from the minds of his fellow Jedi, and cries, too, transparent tears falling in silence._

It took them some time to recover; their energy was drained, their emotions were still overlapping. But when they did, Qui-Gon was the first to speak. "Someone else was there. Did you feel it?" He looked around the circle, into four pairs of eyes.

They all nodded. Someone else – someone in spirit form, like them – had been there.

"Who the frack was that?" Qui-Gon demanded.

"Palpatine." Anakin snarled, spat the name out like he had eaten something vile.

"What was that wanker doing there?" Obi-Wan asked, glaring at Anakin.

"Why're you all looking at me? I didn't invite him!"

"Well, he's your…your…you know." Obi-Wan shrugged.

"I think the term you're looking for is 'Dark Overlord'," Mace Windu sneered.

"Still pissed about the hand, aren't you?" Anakin snapped.

"And the light saber. And the window."

"Frack off. I thought you were trying to assassinate the chancellor."

"Because your _Dark Overlord_ told you so."

"Stop! Bicker you will not," Yoda said, holding up his hands. "Discord he already sows. Past is past. Why he was here and what damage he did, or will do, we must discover. Fight for the Dark side, he will, always."

They were quiet, then. If Emperor Palpatine had managed to manifest as a Dark Side spirit, they suddenly had a lot more to contend with.

* * *

 **A/N**

I used the movie, the script online and the novelization for the dialogue and details of the scenes here that I 'wrote around'. Hopefully I got everything right, and in order. Writing this section is very different from Part I; hope I've done okay. The dialogue for the Force Vision comes from the enhanced audio transcripts that are online.

Palpatine speaking during the Force Vision seemed odd to me, and one of my reviewers, Lord Darth Yoda , mentioned wanting to see a Force-Ghost version of him, so…here he is. He'll be back (unfortunately?) to cause more trouble.

As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! It makes my day! :)


	27. 27 - Mere Anarchy

**MERE ANARCHY**

* * *

KYLO REN

He was standing on the bridge of the Finalizer. On the planet below, the mass rally was in full swing. Hux was speaking, swept up in the moment, full of emotion and intensity and righteous wrath.

In contrast, Kylo Ren was silent, immobile. He was standing in front of the viewscreen where he knew he would see the weapon's blast. It wasn't that he wanted to see it; it was that he wanted to be prepared. Among the odder stories from his childhood that still lingered was the one his Uncle told (although never, _ever_ in his mother's presence) of Old Ben Kenobi, reacting to the destruction of Alderaan, his mother's home world. Old Ben, light-years away from the planet on the _Millennium Falcon_ , had suddenly gone pale, stumbled and felt faint. Sank into a chair as if his legs could no longer hold him, and said _I felt a great disturbance in the Force,_ _as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced._ Those words…Luke had said them so often it was like they were etched on his brain. It had just been a story. But now…well, he didn't want to collapse. To appear weak. So he was gripping the railing tightly, watching, waiting, anticipating.

 _And then…he's somewhere else. A dim stone hallway. At first he thinks it's the hallway in his mind, the one from the Jedi Academy, but no. This is somewhere he has never been. He's walking down a winding stair, irresistibly drawn toward…something._

 _A hand reaches out, toward an ancient-looking wooden box. Not his hand…the hand is small and bare. It reaches into the box, touches something…familiar. The hilt of a lightsaber. A lightsaber he_ _ **knows.**_ _And then everything disappears and he's in a different corridor, and he sees…Grandfather? Yes, it is him…and Luke? Luke, young and blond, fighting him._

 _"Hello?" Someone calls. No, not someone._ _ **Her.**_ _Then he sees her, at the other end of the hallway, running toward him…but then everything starts spinning and she's gone and he's standing in the rain, the Knights of Ren behind him, advancing on… oh, no. Her, again, on the ground, scrabbling backward, just like it had happened at the academy, only this time, she isn't a little girl. One of the knights raises his weapon toward her. Kylo – vision-Kylo – doesn't hesitate. He skewers the knight with his lightsaber. The vision shifts. Scene after scene, until he's in a snowy wood and there she is, again, running. She almost slams right into him, and she screams and falls backward, away from him, away, away, and he's reaching out with his mind to pull her back but she's gone. Gone._

He was back on the Finalizer, still gripping the railing, still waiting for the weapon to fire. The vision had left him shaken; it was, he realized, her vision, not his. But he had been there, too. Why? He didn't have time to ponder it, because the weapon had been fired; he saw the blazing red blast shooting across and through space. He tightened his grip on the railing, waiting for whatever was going to hit him to hit him. When it did, it was like a wave of horror. A collective gasp that rose to a scream…so loud, rising and climbing. He wanted to fall to his knees and hold his head in his hands, but he didn't. He stood immobile, gripping the railing, riding out the wave of terror until he thought it couldn't get any worse. Then it did, because where there had been fear, panic, and noise now there was nothing. _Nothing._ And that was worse than the screams.

For a moment, he felt pity for his mother. She would have felt it, too, but she wouldn't have been prepared. And it would be the second time she experienced something like this. He had never understood why she was so unwilling to talk about Alderaan. Now he knew. It was too terrible to revisit. Hosnian Prime had not been his home world; he didn't really have one, having lived on Coruscant and Chandrilla and Hosnian Prime and all the other planets that shared the rotating honor of hosting the New Republic and serving as its capital. The closest thing he had to a home was the _Millennium Falcon_ , the one constant in a life of change. But he had lived there, on Hosnian Prime. He had known people there. And – although he had not been personally responsible for Starkiller - he had helped engineer their demise today.

He would have liked to go to his quarters and be alone, but that was not to be. At that moment, his comlink buzzed. The droid had been located. On Takodana. This time he would not leave its retrieval to Hux's troops. He would go himself. He released his grip on the railing, only then noticing that he had actually put dents in the durasteel, and marched to his shuttle.

* * *

REY

She had to get out, had to get away. She was so confused and frightened and overwhelmed. What was that? What had just happened? And why had it happened to _her_?

Maz had said someone could come back, but who…Luke? She didn't know. Someone. Someone would come back…for her? To her? She ran and ran, tumbling over roots, being smacked in the face by branches, until she heard a beep. She spun around to see BB-8.

She stopped, panting, and crouched down beside the droid. "What are you doing? You have to go back. BB-8. No, you can't - you have to go back, you're too important. They'll help you." She argued over his beeps until she heard another noise. Ships overhead. She looked up, and saw TIE fighters, and a large black shuttle, coming in for a landing, wings folding with elegant menace, and she knew, somehow she knew. Whoever was coming for her was on that ship.

She had to help her friends. They were still in the castle. She turned and ran faster than ever, toward the castle. Toward the danger.

* * *

SUPREME LEADER SNOKE

Supreme Leader Snoke had not felt fear – real fear – in a very, very long time. He chastised himself for feeling it now; but then, he supposed it was understandable. After all, it was a rare thing to be confronted for a second time by one's murderer.

Said murderer, however, was now standing in the center of Snoke's audience chamber. Well, not exactly standing. Manifesting would be a better description.

"You're going to lose him." The visitor didn't bother with preliminaries.

"Hello, Sheev," Snoke hissed, rising from his chair and approaching the shimmering blue apparition.

The visitor laughed, an oily, unpleasant sound. "I have not gone by that name in a very long time. I don't think I'll return to it now."

"What would you prefer? Chancellor Palpatine? Darth Sideous?" Snoke asked, circling his unwanted guest.

The visitor gave a half smile. "You once called me apprentice, but now I prefer…Emperor."

Supreme Leader Snoke returned the half-smile. "You do know who I am. So nice to be remembered."

"Oh, I remember you well, old friend, from before you called yourself Supreme Leader Snoke. I remember when you were Darth Plagueis the Wise." The Emperor gave a snide smirk. "Not entirely wise, though. I remember cleaving your skull with my saber."

Snoke touched the indented scar on his head. "Yes. Thank you for this, _old friend_. It is a constant reminder to fight against the weaknesses of attachment and trust."

"I would ask how you managed to survive, but the truth is, I don't care. As I am already most thoroughly dead, whatever you did to keep yourself alive is of no use to me."

Snoke returned to his stone throne and sank into it. "Then why are you here?"

"I doubt you'll believe me - and I can't say I blame you – but I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" Snoke sneered. "Why would you do that?"

"Because without my help…You. Will. Lose. And the light will win."

"I think not."

"Really? Are you aware that your apprentice is, even now, being tempted by the Light? Being pulled to it? By a girl?"

Snoke scoffed. "A girl? If he wants a girl let him have her. I recall you had many."

Palpatine's smile turned lascivious for a moment. "Indeed. But none of them were latent Force-sensitives sent by the Jedi with the express purpose of stealing your apprentice back to the light."

Snoke was still, silent. Finally, he said, "Farseeing was always one of your gifts. One I often made use of. Tell me what you know." He made face, then said, through clinched teeth, " _Emperor."_

* * *

 **A/N**

Eww, I just got in Snoke's head for a bit. I need to shower.

So, I'm not sure who Snoke really is, and I'm not married to any theory, but the 'Snoke is Darth Plagueis' theory worked well for this story, and it does seem plausible: Plagueis could influence midi-chlorians to create life and to prevent people from dying, so thinking that he could have managed to save himself, or come back to life after Palpatine killed him isn't that impossible. Plagueis was a Muun. Here's a description: "A thin, tall species, Muuns have pasty-white skin. Their bodies are elongated and thin, with equally elongated and thin heads." And here's a description of Snoke from TFA novelization: "Tall and gaunt…humanoid but not human...a pink, pale face so aged it verged on translucence." Similar, anyway, so it could work. And it makes the interactions with Palpatine much more interesting to write.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. It lights up my day!


	28. 28 - If You Can Keep It

**If You Can Keep It**

* * *

OBI-WAN

It hit them all like a wave, a wave of terror and horror and death. Obi-Wan remembered feeling it, before, on the Millennium Falcon – a great disturbance in the Force – but this was even worse. Larger, louder, more painful.

They were all silent for long moments, grieving as the Force grieved.

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin. "Why must it always be a superweapon? Why so much death? So much senseless destruction?"

Anakin averted his eyes. "The Death Star wasn't my idea. It was Tarkin's project…and Palpatine's."

Palpatine. Obi-Wan sighed. Silence stretched on again. Finally he spoke. "Have you thought about what Yoda asked?"

Anakin lowered his brows. "I don't want to." His lips pursed into a pout.

"I understand, but.."

Qui-Gon broke in. "Look, we all understand. But we still need you to do it. You knew him better than anyone, and if any of us can recognize his Force signature, find him, it's you. And we need to know what he's up to."

"No one's asking you to engage him. Just do a little recon," Mace added.

Anakin sat silent and stubborn. Finally he spoke. "I don't think I'm strong enough, okay? You don't know what he's like. And now? Dark Side spirits – they're not like us. They…it drives them mad, the darkness. And I killed him, betrayed him. Defied him. He can't let that stand. If he senses me…he'll want me back, on principle. And to…punish me. And I'm afraid he might…that I might not be able to resist him."

"This fear you must overcome. The path to the Dark side it is, but only if you let it control you. Your lesson you have learned about that, no?" Yoda said. "What he is doing, we must discover. If your grandson you want to save."

Anakin sighed, chewed the inside of his lip. Obi-Wan looked at his friend, caught his eye and held his gaze, sending him a wave of reassuring energy. "Listen. We weren't there for you last time. You had to deal with him alone. He isolated you from us, and…we were guilty too. We pushed you away. It won't be like that this time. We're here for you. With you."

Anakin's jaw twitched.

"And look, mate, I'm here this time, too," Qui-Gon added.

"You'll go with me? If I look for him?" Anakin asked, and for a minute Obi-Wan saw that small slave boy with the pink cheeks and blond hair and glittering blue eyes.

"Yes. We'll go with you. And we won't let him get his claws into you again." Qui-Gon said.

Anakin gave a single nod.

* * *

HUX

He sat in his office, behind his pristine desk. He reached out, straightened a stack of files, squared their edges. Wiped a stray fingerprint off the shiny black desktop with his handkerchief. It had been a success. A feat of technological perfection. And he was responsible for it.

Introspection was not part of Hux's nature. Any inclination toward it had been trained out of him, by his father, by the Academy, by the Supreme Leader.

Still, he allowed himself a moment to consider the impact of Starkiller. It was necessary. He truly believed that. The Republic – it was weak, ineffectual, bloated. It claimed to champion freedom, but what it actually provided was…nothing. No real protection, no real help in times of disaster. It couldn't. So lawlessness and chaos overtook outlying systems; pirates threatened trade routes, local warlords rose up to protect the people the Republic couldn't – and then fought each other for territory, destroying valuable resources. Each planet made its own rules; travel was dangerous; trade was impeded by corruption or bribery, spice flowed like water - and the Senators sat in their cushy conference rooms and talked and talked and talked, endlessly debating every petty point of order, every angle of advantage, when action was needed. Yes. The Republic was an infection, and it had to be cut out. This attack was not wanton destruction. It was surgical. Precise

The Hosnian system. Billions of life forms. There one minute, gone the next, in a flash of light and heat. No one at the rally had seen anything like it before, not even the few old Imperials who remembered the Death Star. After it fired, there was silence – awestruck, horrified, exultant – he didn't know.

War was ugly. War destroyed. That was its nature. He took no pleasure in the deaths of the people of the Hosnian system, but he also felt no remorse. Wars were not won without loss of life – but one could sometimes choose which side those lost lives were on. Hux had minimized the loss on the side of the First Order, and even some on the other side. This would eliminate the need for long, grisly engagements, dogfights in the skies over countless worlds, ships exploding or crashing down, littering planet after planet, turning them into junkyards like Jakku. Billions of lives for tens of billions. It was a fair trade.

But as he had stood and watched the weapon fire, he hadn't been able to help thinking, "Maker, what have I done?"

It was a waste, such a loss of life. But it had served its purpose. In his opinion, it need not ever happen again. The elimination of the Republic and most of their fleet, and the knowledge that the First Order had this capability should end this war before it really started. There was no need for another demonstration. Systems would see the wisdom of acquiescing to the First Order, and then, then the galaxy would see order. Security. Peace.

It had served its purpose, and he had been responsible. He flicked a piece of lint off the edge of his trousers, stood and straightened his jacket and returned to the bridge.

* * *

KYLO REN

He felt her presence. The girl. The one. Why did she keep coming back to him, when he tried so hard to deliver her from himself? It was like something… _something_ …no. That was stupid. Why would the Force keep flinging them together? That sounded like something out of one of those dumb holovids that used to be on in the Resistance common room during the day.

Regardless. He would have to find some way to get her to tell him where the droid was, then he would...incapacitate her and that would be that.

He found her easily, stepped out from behind a tree and was about to speak when…she shot at him. He brought up his lightsaber, deflected the blast easily. And the next one. And the next. Her eyes flashed with panic and fear and murderous intent. She wasn't just firing blindly, she was trying to kill him. And doing a damn good job of it, he thought, as he deflected what would have been a clean head shot.

This wasn't the helpless child he remembered. This was a half-feral woman full of violent fury and deadly determination.

He wanted to _know_ her.

He held out a hand and froze her in Force-stasis.

She gasped, struggled. He stalked closer, studying her. "The girl I've heard so much about. You would kill me, knowing nothing about me." He couldn't keep the awe out of his voice. She was so pure, so authentic in her intentions, in her actions, her fear becoming action without any hesitation.

It was beautiful.

He circled around her. Her face was contorted and she was trying not to cry. He didn't want to make her cry; he wasn't sure what he wanted…to send her away, to keep her forever. "Something. There is something… _Who are you_?"

Who was this girl? His only good dream…she was so tiny, running in a field of flowers. Just another youngling at the Academy…but one that wasn't afraid of him. That clear sweet voice in his head. His mutinous act of mercy, saving her from the massacre. How, why were they connected? And why couldn't he look away from her?

But he had to focus on his mission. "The droid." He held his light saber close to her face, felt her fear; so uncontaminated, so violent. It was delicious. "Where is it?"

She wouldn't answer. He knew she wouldn't. So…the other way. He was surprised at how glad he was that he'd have a chance to _look_. He flicked off the lightsaber and held a hand to her face, the edge of his glove grazing her skin…something, like a slight electric current, hummed through him at the contact.

She was straining, terrified, refusing to look at his face, trying to fight something she didn't understand as he entered her mind.

He needed to know, needed to find out who she was, but all he saw was sand, heat, hunger. Her whole life – or what she knew of it – was just that. She was a scavenger, crawling through crashed ships, retrieving anything of value to trade for a miserable subsistence of portions. She remembered nothing before that. Her memories stopped fifteen years ago. Before that was…blank. Nothing. Not just vague or cloudy memories, nearly forgotten due to time and trauma but _nothing_. As if it has been wiped clean. Strange.

But he saw no reason she would be connected to him, no reason she kept popping back into his life. Maybe it _was_ just coincidence. He removed his hand and was somehow glad to see the relief on her face.

"Is it true, then? You're nothing special after all? You're just a – Jakku scavenger?"

She looked hurt, insulted. He returned to her mind, searching for…what? The droid? Yes. He had to proceed with all haste, find the droid, forget this girl. She was nothing to him and he was wasting his time. He was less careful this time, less gentle, although not nearly as rough as he could be. Tears streamed down her face. And then…a new surprise. "The map. You've seen it." Why had the droid shown it to her if she was inconsequential? She was fighting him now, or trying to…she didn't know how. But she was trying with all that beautiful, untouched violence and fear that was within her. She wanted to scream. He wouldn't let her, kept her frozen. He didn't want to make her scream. A subversive voice in the back of his mind whispered, 'Yes you do, just not like this'. He ignored it.

He was almost glad when he heard explosions nearby, when several Stormtroopers showed up and told him Resistance fighters had arrived.

And then he made a snap decision, out of instinct, out of something subconscious that he couldn't explain if he had to. "Pull the division out. Forget the droid. We have what we need." She had seen the map. He would take it, find Luke Skywalker, prove himself yet again to the Supreme Leader. And drop her back on Jakku, safely out of his life.

And then he flicked his hand at the girl and she collapsed. He stepped forward, caught her because, well, she was falling, and then swooped her into his arms. She was so small. And soft. And warm. And she smelled like sun and starship fuel and fruit. And that slight electric hum was still there, everywhere there was contact. He could have handed her to the Stormtroopers who were studiously _not_ paying attention to him, but he didn't. He settled her against his chest, an arm under her shoulders and another under her knees and carried her to his shuttle, walking with purposeful strides, ignoring the riot of conflicting emotions that were demanding to be felt. But he refused. He would not let himself feel…all these things. Whatever they were.

* * *

 **A/N**

The chapter title 'If You Can Keep It' comes from a quote by Ben Franklin, who said, as he emerged from having helped write the US Constitution, in answer to someone who wanted to know what sort of government the then-new United States had, "A Republic, if you can keep it." The New Republic, it seems, could not keep it. And I think it fits the other sections too…Anakin wants to keep his hold on the light. And Kylo Ren? What does he want to keep? ;)

I decided to write the Takodana forest scene from Kylo's POV only, because the novelization writes it from Rey's POV, so that's already been done in canon. I tried to combine aspects of the script and the novelization, because there's a lot more in the book and I wanted to include some of that, but it doesn't mesh together perfectly. Hope I merged it okay.

For the Hux section, I based it on what he said in his speech, and I also read interviews with the crew of the _Enola Gay_. I felt a little bad using that, because WWII is not really a fair parallel– I'm pretty sure the Republic or Resistance wasn't working on their own version of Starkiller Base, and there wasn't exactly an ongoing declared war between the FO and the Republic, so it was more of a terrorist attack than a wartime bombing – but the articles were actually very helpful, as research. Hux doesn't see himself as a bad guy; he sees himself as bringing order to the galaxy. He sees himself as being on the right side of history. I think we all want to feel that way.

So, that was sort of serious. Now back to fanfiction! Next chapter, Anakin's going to have to spy on Palps. Han and Leia _and_ Kylo and Rey are travelling together. So what happened on those ships? (No, not that!)

Thanks for reading, faving, following and reviewing! Reviews are like free desserts…they make everything better!


	29. 29 - Coalescence

**Coalescence**

HAN

Everything around him faded away – the flames, the explosions, the blaster fire, the shouts of the earnest young man who was clearly _not_ a member of the Resistance. All of it disappeared and his world shrank to a single figure. Tall. Dressed all in black. Masked but unmistakable.

Han Solo rarely lost his cool. Calm under pressure was his _thing_. He was the definition of cool, always ready with a smirk and a wisecrack.

Not this time. His blood had turned to ice water. He tried to breathe, but his lungs weren't working right. His vision greyed around the edges and tunneled, and he felt dizzy, like when he gained altitude too fast and had to tighten his stomach and thigh muscles to fight g-LOC and hypoxia until the life support system rebalanced.

His face tightened, but his lower lip quivered anyway. Ben. Not-Ben.

Time slowed, stopped as he watched the figure march through the battle and up the ramp of a shuttle.

"He took her, did you see that?" Finn was panicking, tears actually running down his face, but Han couldn't care right now. He was lost to the past, lost to pain and regret.

Of course he had seen it. The man in black, carrying Rey, limp as a ragdoll. Taking her. Han knew why. Knew what she had seen. Knew his son's abilities. _Don't try that mind-reading crap with me, mister, or I'll tell your mother._

"Yeah, I know." He couldn't meet Finn's gaze, just shoved him aside and brushed past him, walking toward another ship. A ship that held another piece of his past. Another piece of his broken heart.

ANAKIN

He watched from the other side, motionless, enthralled. If he had still needed to breathe, he would have been holding his breath. Obi-Wan, beside him, did the same.

They followed the boy's progress, through the forest, across the battlefield, seemingly oblivious to the danger but really, Anakin knew, hyper-aware of it and able to protect himself and his limp burden easily. Well, maybe not _so_ easily without dropping her. _Over the shoulder, dumbass, so you have a free hand,_ he thought. They leaned forward as he strode up the shuttle ramp, their eyes tracking his progress. They could see the Force swirling around them – Ben, Rey – swirling and tightening and almost _caressing_ them. He wondered if they could feel it. Surely the boy could; the girl, probably not since she was deeply unconscious.

Didn't matter. It was there.

The ramp closed and they watched the shuttle lift off, watched the TIE fighters form up around it.

Anakin felt Obi-Wan shudder and he put a steadying hand on his shoulder, sending a wave of energy through the touch. "She'll be okay."

Obi-Wan nodded, patted Anakin's back. "So will he."

* * *

 **A/N**

Because Han's face in that scene! Gah. He might not have been a great father, but that was the face of a man with a broken heart.

G-LOC: G-force induced loss of consciousness - a loss of consciousness occurring from excessive and sustained g-forces draining blood away from the brain causing hypoxia (oxygen deficiency). One way to stave it off is to tighten the muscles in your abdomen and thighs (kinda like a Kegel), which prevents blood from pooling in the legs (therefore keeping it in the brain). It's way more complicated than that but that's the best I can do.

I know this was a short update; I'm sorry! I'm going to take a short break from this story until I finish my other story, "Commemoration". Writing two at the same time is getting confusing and more than I can handle, so I want to focus on one then the other, and I'm a lot closer to finishing that one. So I'll be back, and when I get back I will focus completely on this one. I promise I'm not abandoning this story; it's my baby and I love it. So stick around and when I come back the updates will happen more quickly!

Thank you to everyone who has stayed with this story through the dark times. Things finally really are coming together. Thanks for reading! And of course, reviews are life and love!


	30. 30 - And Her Eyes Were Wild

KYLO REN

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

What had he done? He had intended to keep this girl out of his life, and instead he had brought her onto his shuttle.

Not just brought her. Carried her. In his arms. Holding her body against his. She was warm and soft and strong, but so thin, her bones sharp against his arms and abdomen. And when he boarded the shuttle and two of the troopers offered to 'secure the prisoner' he had snarled, actually snarled, at them, said he would handle that personally, clutched her closer against his chest and sat down on the bench alongside the bulkhead, still holding her. Phasma would hear about that, he was sure – such unorthodox behavior, going against procedures, would certainly be written up.

Hux, damn, he hoped it didn't get back to _Hux_. He would take the first opportunity to mock Kylo for his peculiar behavior with this girl, and he would file the incident away to use against him in the future.

Kylo knew how it looked, the strange possessive behavior, the unnecessary _physical contact_ ; knew how his ginger adversary would sneer and snicker. Hux often made snide remarks about Kylo's monk-like existence; his self-denial and asceticism and abstinence. The other Knights of Ren, Hux often pointed out, didn't deny themselves like that. Most of them indulged in whatever pleasures they craved, sometimes not caring if the object of their attraction was interested – or even willing. Kylo found their depravity abhorrent. He did not partake of such things. They were distractions, indulgences, symptoms of weakness.

He looked at the girl. He had stretched her legs out on the bench beside him. She was still unconscious, her head resting against his thighs, his arm braced over her body. He needed to be sure she didn't fall, didn't get tossed around if they hit turbulence…that was all.

What the actual kriff had he been thinking? Oh, right, He hadn't. He had just _felt_ and acted on impulse. He knew better than that. He had more discipline. More control. For example, right now he really wanted remove his glove and tuck that little stray wisp of hair behind her ear, maybe brush against her cheek, touch that golden skin – but he didn't.

He watched her, sleeping, and remembered a story from long ago. An Alderaanian fairy tale about a beautiful maiden cursed with endless sleep, who could only be woken by true love's kiss.

He shook his head. Why would he think of _that_?

It wasn't because her lips looked so soft and pink, slightly parted, almost like an invitation…

He gritted his teeth and looked away.

He would find the map in her mind, take her back to Jakku and wipe her memory. He would not think about…

He would not think about her that way.

He would not think about her at all.

* * *

HAN

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

It wasn't that he didn't want to see Leia again. Of course he did. He had never, not for a second, stopped loving her. He had wanted to see her again every single day.

He kept sneaking glances at her, the long braid coiled around her head, the stiff military fabric of her blouse, the warm, dark depths of her eyes. She was still so beautiful. She was more subdued, her eyes tired, her energy muted, but still his princess.

Still his wife.

Of course he wanted to see her again.

Just – not like this. He had hoped, somehow, that when he saw her again, it would be with good news; luck would have been on his side and somehow, against all odds, things would be…un-fucked-up.

Instead, the opposite was true. He had seen… _him_. He'd had to tell her, even though he didn't want to, even though he knew it would hurt. _I saw him. Leia, I saw our son. He was here._ But she had barely reacted, just blinked and set her lips in a tight line, pressed them together, pale and nearly bloodless, like she was trying to contain…everything.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that it would be okay, that _they_ would be okay. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, press her cheek to his chest, kiss the top of her head and breathe in the scent of her hair. But she seemed so brittle he was afraid that if he touched her, she might shatter. So he fixed his gaze on the opposite wall and crossed his arms, keeping his hands and thoughts carefully to himself, even though he wanted to pull her to him and hold her forever.

He wouldn't think about that now.

He wouldn't think about that at all.

* * *

ANAKIN

It was strange, being able to watch people without being seen or heard - like watching a holo, almost, except they were far more invested in what they were watching. It was one of many benefits of being a Force ghost, and much easier than actually appearing to the living. Nearly effortless. So they watched, as the boy carried the girl into an interrogation room, deposited her almost gently into the strange contraption in the middle of the room, backed away, and crouched, staring at her, his energy calmer than they had seen it in a very long time.

Anakin was not so calm. He glared at Obi-Wan. "This is your idea? We're just going to let him _interrogate_ her? This idea is questionable at best…"

" _Questionable_? I'm getting lectured about _questionable methods_ by _Darth Vader_?"

"Do. Not. Call. Me. That."

"Sorry, Mr. Sensitive. You know the plan requires that they meet. So…" Obi-Wan waved his arms in an expansive gesture at the interrogation room, "they meet."

Anakin huffed an exasperated sigh. "Well, your plan's working out great. Do you know what the First Order does to prisoners? Because I do. Intimately. Their methods are based on things I pioneered. I wrote the book. I don't mean that as an expression like 'I know a lot about that'. I mean I literally wrote up an interrogation procedural manual for the Empire. I did do actual _work_ there, you know, it wasn't all light sabers and Force choking. And I've seen enough of these guys to know they're still using it. And they're…"

"Anakin." Obi-Wan gave him a flat look. "Stop talking. Look, he's been crouching on the floor watching her sleep as if it's the most fascinating thing in the galaxy. I don't think he's going to hurt her, not really. There's a…connection. The Force in him remembers her, even if he doesn't."

"I just want it on the record that I think this is a _terrible_ plan."

"So noted," Obi-Wan sniped.

Just then the girl jolted awake.

"Where am I?" she asked. Terror under calm.

The boy didn't move, just answered, something about being a guest. Words…stilted, awkward…flowed between them until she called him a 'creature in a mask', voice full of acidic disdain. Then he did something unexpected. He reached up, stood, sudden, startling and…took the helmet off.

Her reaction was slight…a blink, a glance, a flicker in the Force. Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged looks. They leaned forward, hovering as the boy stepped into the girl's personal space and inhaled.

"What's he _doing_? Smelling her?" Confusion flickered over Obi-Wan's face.

"You smelled like evergreen needles. Cool and fresh and sharp. Padme smelled…warm. Like dry grass and bread dough," Anakin said, closing his eyes, a blissful smile on his face.

Obi-Wan just sighed and shook his head.

"You know I can take whatever I want," the boy said.

"You have _got_ to have a long talk with that boy," Obi-Wan said, fixing Anakin with a meaningful look.

"The kriff do you think I've been trying to do?" Anakin snapped. "Shh. Look."

The Force swirled between the boy and the girl, sparking and snapping, pushing and pulling. It flickered between them, and they both gasped simultaneously, a rush of recognition, understanding. Then it was gone and dark energy was pulsing, pounding from the boy, around the girl, as he searched her mind, but he wasn't looking for the map. It was as if he was so fascinated by her, he had forgotten all about it.

The two Force ghosts watched, listened, as he waded through her thoughts, unearthing secrets buried deep, like treasure under sand, memories she'd rather not remember, so sharp they brought tears to her eyes. She fought it, fear turned to fury, nearly spitting venomous energy at him. "Get out of my head!"

It snapped him out of it, reminded him what he was there for, apparently.

"I know you've seen the map. It's in there... and now you'll give it to me." A pause, as he regrouped. A current of energy hovered between them, taut and tense, snapping with heat and potential. "Don't be afraid, I feel it too."

"I'm not giving you anything." She was all teeth and flashing eyes, feral and fierce.

"We'll see." The boy was preening, posturing.

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face. "Seriously, has he ever talked to a girl before?"

"Well, we can't all be as suave and debonair as the great Obi-Wan Kenobi," Anakin snapped.

Obi-Wan darted a glance at his companion. "Oh, right. Padme told me about your idea of romantic conversation. Sand and dictatorship."

"I wish you were still alive so I could stab you again."

"Ah. There's that Skywalker charm." Obi-Wan winked.

"Shut up," Anakin snapped as they continued to watch, still, silent, expectant.

Something had changed in the Force. Little tendrils of energy, bright and shining, reached out, from her, to him, wound around him, around his energy, flickered and flashed and…

"You," she gasped. "You're afraid. That you'll never be as strong as Darth Vader."

"Don't," Anakin hissed at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan held up both hands and shook his head. "Wasn't gonna…"

The boy stumbled back, snatched his hand away, his own energy retreating, collapsing, but it was too late. Tiny threads of it stayed, twined with hers, coiling around the bright filaments, tighter and tighter, as her energy followed him, hanging on, little bits of her light mixed with his dark, connecting the two Force signatures, twining them together.

There was a pulse as they interlocked. A shock wave rippled out, washed over Anakin and Obi-Wan, leaving them stunned.

"Whoa," Obi-Wan said.

"Yeah. Whoa." Anakin blinked. "That was…intense. I think…I think maybe we shouldn't have seen that."

"Indeed." Obi-Wan looked at his feet as the boy fled the room, visibly shaken, and the girl strained and struggled against her restraints. "Well. At any rate. Whatever was supposed to happen…happened. I think it's time to get her out of here." He glanced at the single Stormtrooper guarding her. "She should be able to manage a simple mind trick now, all I have to do is send a suggestion…"

Anakin tensed, shivered. "He's here."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Palpatine," Anakin hissed.

Obi-Wan frowned.

"I'm going to find out what he's up to," Anakin said.

"I'll come with you."

"No. You have to make sure the girl gets out of here. I'll deal with… _him_." Anakin steeled himself.

"No. Not alone. Call Qui-Gon."

"There's no time. I can handle it…"

"Anakin." Obi-Wan tilted his head, his eyes large and pleading.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll call Qui-Gon. Just be sure she gets out of here. And don't let my grandson and my son-in-law run into one another."

Obi-Wan frowned, a worry line forming between his brows.

"Trust me. I have a bad feeling about that."

Obi-Wan gave a single nod and the two parted.

* * *

EMPEROR PALPATINE

"I hate to say I told you so…oh, wait. No. No, I don't. I relish it. I _told_ you _so_ ," He taunted, his voice a sneering sing-song. "Her power has been awakened. And he feels compassion for her. Empathy. Perhaps something more."

Snoke glared at the spirit of his former apprentice, his murderer, a darker shadow in the already shadowy hall, a condescending smirk on his face. "What of it, _Sheev_?" He used his former apprentice's birth name intentionally, drawing it out, hissing it at the spirit. "He is on his way to me as we speak. He is frightened, shaken, weak – just the way I like him. He will obey me blindly, and I will teach him how to handle this _compassion_ , and that will be the end of this bothersome scavenger girl."

"So you intend to kill her?"

"No. I intend to have him do it."

Palpatine rubbed his hands…or the long shadows that he thought were his hands…together. "Yes. Yes, that is what I would have done, before. Cut out the infection, permanently. Excise it. Remind him that the dark side does not allow for such _softness_. However…" He was silent for a long time, allowing the tension to build.

"What? Out with it," his former master snapped.

Palpatine felt what might have once been pleasure flow through his being. His master was asking him what to do, acknowledging that he was wiser. "You know the dark side. But I know Skywalkers. They feel things. Deeply. It's their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. And if you make him kill the girl – it will not kill this _sentiment_ he has developed for her. In fact, it might intensify it." He remembered finding his own apprentice at the tomb of that foolish, idealistic female he had married once, his breath even louder than usual through the mask, his shoulders shaking with carefully contained sobs. "Despite my success at eradicating Anakin Skywalker from the mind of Darth Vader, I was never able to totally expunge Padme Amidala from his heart. Even after making certain she was dead, and making him think he was the one who killed her."

His former master shifted on his stone seat. "What, then, do you suggest?"

"Allow this compassion to take root and grow, become something stronger. Let it contaminate them both…then turn them against each other and keep the strongest."

"How?"

The shadows that were Palpatine's lips spread into a calculating sneer. "Tell her that the Jedi used her, dumped her on that junk planet, left her to struggle and starve, intended to sacrifice her to save _him_. Make her believe that she really is nothing…to him, to them, to anyone. And let him know that they all, even his grandfather, thought he was weak, helpless…in need of rescue."

Snoke's smile mirrored Palpatine's. "I always saw such potential in you. And I was correct. You were _indeed_ a worthy apprentice."

* * *

QUI-GON

It was all Qui-Gon could do to keep Anakin from attacking Palpatine's dark spirit with the Force, all he could do to drag him away from the stone chamber and back to where Obi-Wan was waiting. "Anakin! Not now. Not yet! You have to control yourself. We have to wait, we can't let them find out we know," Qui-Gon said, his voice soothing.

"He said her name. How dare he? That bastard doesn't deserve to say her name. He doesn't deserve to _think_ her name." Anakin snarled.

"I know. I know. But we have to focus on the big picture here. Your grandson. The girl. The galaxy."

Anakin struggled. "Let me go. I'll kill him. I know he's already dead but I'll figure out a way and I'll kriffing kill him again. I knew, knew all along that he did it, but to hear him admit it, like he was proud…" His chest was heaving, his Force signature undulating, flashing between light and dark.

"Little help here, mate?" Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan.

"Anakin. Get ahold of yourself, man. What happened?"

Anakin thrashed, gritted his teeth. "He said…he said _her name_." His voice broke.

Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon, raised his eyebrows.

"Padme," Qui-Gon whispered.

Understanding spread over Obi-Wan's face.

"He took her from me. After he promised he would help me save her. And Snoke…he's going to…to…let my grandson and the girl fall in love and then…tell them we…we used her to save him…that we – that I - thought he was weak…set them against each other…tear them apart...keep the winner…"

"Devious git," Obi-Wan said. "I didn't…it wasn't like that. I never meant to use her but…oh, this is bad. But now that we know we can…"

Anakin suddenly froze, snapped back to the present, spat out a Hutt obscenity. "We've got a more immediate problem."

They looked at him.

He pointed. Far below, hidden behind a metal girder, was Han Solo. Crossing a bridge to the opposite side of the cavernous chamber was the boy. And Han was starting to follow him.

Anakin's presence disappeared, his energy moving toward his son-in-law.

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan. "Go with him. I'll brief the council on what we learned."

* * *

I know it's been forever since I updated this story, but I'm back and I intend to finish it. I just had to finish 'Commemoration' first.

Thank you so much to Perry Downing for applying her beta skills to this chapter! You're the best!

So, I've run out of phrases from my original inspiration poem "The Second Coming" to use as chapter titles, so now I'm just using lines I like from other poems or whatever. The title of this chapter comes from "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" by John Keats. It has some lovely language and the first half has a Reylo feel (not the ending though). But, that's okay. I'll use the bits I like. J

Thank you for reading, and of course, reviews are like gold, or cookies, or something really awesome! I appreciate them so much!


	31. 31 - Against The Dying of the Light

HAN

He saw him. Ben-Not-Ben. Walking with long purposeful strides. He must have known Han was there, must have sensed him. He always could. But he didn't let on. He just stomped away, picking up the pace, as if he was the one hiding, skulking, trying to escape. Han could let him, could just stand still and be quiet and the moment would pass. Except…

 _If you see our son, bring him home._

Han took a deep breath. Then another. Then he made a decision, pressed his lips together, lifted a foot to step out…

And almost collided with, well, he didn't know quite who (what?) they were. There were two of them, a tall one with longish wavy hair, a shorter one with close-cropped hair and a beard; they were both wearing brown homespun robes. They could have been Jedi, except they weren't quite _solid_. They were sort of…see-through.

He did not have time for this. "I dunno who or what the hell you are, but you're standing between me and a promise I made to my wife. So _move_. Or I'll move you."

"He doesn't recognize us," the bearded one said. "We have to appear as he knew us."

There was something familiar about his voice – the Coruscant accent, the aristocratic inflection. Han frowned. He could almost place it.

The taller being scowled. "Do I have to? You know I hate looking like that."

The bearded one rolled his eyes. "You're the one who dragged us down here. If you want to do this, it's the only way."

The tall one sighed and then they…shifted. And now, now Han knew _exactly_ who and what they were. "Kriffing hells," he snarled.

Han had always been leery of the Force. So the last thing he wanted to see right at that moment were the Force ghosts of his father-in-law – who happened to be Darth Freaking Vader – and Old Ben Kenobi, that damn hermit who had barged into his perfectly happy smuggler's life and gotten him tangled up with the Skywalkers.

But there they were, blocking his path to his son.

"Outta my way," he said. They didn't move. It occurred to him that he could probably just walk through them, but the idea was too revolting to seriously consider.

"Please. Hear us out," the spirit of his father-in-law said. "I know you don't exactly have…good feelings…toward me…"

"Ya think?"

"But I swear to you that I'm trying to help. I want to save him as much as you do."

Han gave Vader a skeptical smirk. "And I should listen to the guy that tortured me, tortured his own teenage daughter, tried to kill his own son, and somehow ended up being my kid's Force-damned idol…why?"

"Because I'm not him anymore." And the shimmering form in front of him flickered, shifted back into the young man with wavy hair and bright blue eyes. "That was Darth Vader. This is who I really am; Anakin Skywalker. For years, I was lost. But Luke saved me, brought me back. He saw the tiny bit of light that was left in Vader when no one else could. Not even me. And now, I see the same thing in my grandson."

"He's telling the truth," Old Ben said. "We've been trying to get through for decades. We have a plan; it's already in motion. You don't have to do this."

Han huffed. "Yeah. I do. He's my son. And I promised Leia."

Old Ben ran a hand over his beard. "I sympathize. But this isn't the best time; he's not…in a place to listen yet."

Han sighed. "I have to try. _I promised Leia_." He walked toward them, steeling himself for whatever walking through a ghost would feel like. Would it be cold? Bleak? Slimy?

They parted at the last minute, letting him pass.

* * *

ANAKIN

Anakin watched his son-in-law step out from behind the column. He balled his hands into fists. He had to give it one last try.

"Don't. He's going to kill you," Anakin said.

Han looked back at the spirit of his father-in-law. "I know."

And he walked away.

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, face frantic. "Help me stop him, come on…" He started to follow Han.

Obi-Wan reached out, touched his sleeve. "Let him go."

Anakin frowned. "What?"

"Sometimes sacrificing yourself is the only way to win."

Anakin searched Obi-Wan's eyes. "No. _No_."

Obi-Wan just looked at him.

"But it's such a waste."

"Really? Or did it make you realize something?"

"I realized that you would do anything to protect what you thought was right and good. And after I knew who they were…Luke and Leia…I realized that by watching over them, you weren't just protecting them, you were still protecting me, in your own way. I…I realized you never stopped loving _me_ , even while you detested… _him_."

Obi-Wan nodded. "There you go."

He watched as Han turned and walked toward the bridge, toward his son, and shouted, "BEN!"

"You can't stop this, Anakin. There's nothing you can do."

Anakin frowned. It wasn't fair. But the two men were facing one another on the bridge, the dark swirling, caressing the boy, and he knew he _couldn't_ stop it. But maybe…maybe Obi-Wan was only _half_ right.

* * *

FINN

Finn was panting, winded from the long climb. Rey, he noticed, wasn't. Sheesh, what had her life been like? He was no slouch; he'd been through _Stormtrooper training_ , and he could barely keep up with her.

They shoved open a hatch and stumbled through, in time to see…uh-oh. Kylo Ren and Han – Mr. Solo – in a stand-off on the access span below. He had seen enough of Ren in action to know this would not end well, and he had really come to like the old smuggler and his weird gruff affection. Finn clutched his blaster and considered taking a shot. But they were so far away and he was no sniper; it wasn't a shot he could even remotely hope to make. It would just serve to give away their presence.

Finn bit his lip and glanced at Rey; she was just as shocked and mesmerized as he was. He braced himself for the swift swing of the red lightsaber that he knew was inevitable. He couldn't watch. He couldn't look away.

But as the two men drew closer together, they started…talking?

Finn and Rey both leaned forward, Rey clutching the railing, trying to catch the words. Son? Kylo Ren is Mr. Solo's _son_? That…he didn't expect that.

Time almost stood still as the two men below faced one another, something pushing and pulling between them, and for a long moment, Finn hoped that maybe, maybe things wouldn't go the way he had expected.

Then the last gleam of light from the sun disappeared, and the chamber turned dark, murky…and time started again and there was that familiar red glow. Finn could hear himself screaming, or maybe it was Rey, he couldn't tell. Then a shot hit Kylo Ren in the side and he dropped to his knees and the chamber erupted in chaos, Stormtroopers blasting; Rey firing back, blindly, Finn joining, trying to hit anything, and then there was an explosion, and another and another, and the floor lurched beneath his feet.

Ren looked up, directly at them, and a horrible dread overcame Finn. He had to get out of there; he had to get Rey out of there. His training kicked in and he managed to drag her away, out and down, down, down, and when their feet hit ground, he ran, pulling her along toward the _Falcon_ and escape.

* * *

HAN

It wasn't the fact that when he woke up, he was sprawled on his back, naked as the day he was born, with a pounding in his head and a fire in his gut, that concerned him. Or the fact that he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. Or the fact that a circle of shocked, concerned faces were looking down at him. He had been in similar situations before. Shit happened.

What _did_ concern him was the fact that the five life forms standing in a circle staring down at him were shimmering, and a little transparent, and they all looked so…solemn.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Han scrunched up his face and looked around the…well, it wasn't a room exactly. Or at all. In fact there was no actual floor under him just…light, soft and warm and cozy. So cozy, like a loving embrace. It was nice, soothing. It made him feel all gooey inside.

He pushed himself onto his elbows. "Wha…where…?"

"Answer your questions we will, but first. Clothing," a small green figure said.

"Yeah. That'd be nice," Han said, but no one made a move to bring him anything to wear.

"Nah, see, we can't give you clothes. You have to do it," a tall man with a shaved head, dark skin and an 'I am so done with this shit' expression, said.

Han's face screwed up in confusion.

"You can look any way you want to here," a tall, lanky man with longish hair pulled partially off his face, said. "Most of us choose a young, vigorous version of ourselves, in our most customary attire. You're the first to choose… _nude_."

"Choose?" Han shook his head, as if to clear it after a punch.

"Knows the Force, he does not. Manipulate it, perhaps he cannot," the tiny one said.

Another figure, tall, wavy haired, vaguely familiar, spoke, his voice beyond horrified. "You mean he might _stay_ _naked_? Oh, no. No way. I can't spend eternity looking at his…"

Han shifted, not that he was modest, exactly, but he wasn't thrilled about being stared at, either.

"Anakin." This figure had a strawberry blond beard and a kind face, and his tone was that of a parent scolding a child. Han wondered if the bearded one was the tall one's dad, except that they looked the same age.

"I mean, I guess now I know what my daughter saw in him, but..."

" _Anakin_!" This was strawberry beard.

The others all groaned, united in their discomfort, but at least it seemed to have broken the odd tension flowing around him. Huh, that was odd. He could _feel_ the tension – not the way he always had, a sense of emotion, but almost physically like…like pinpricks of cold water.

Han blinked. Daughter? Uh-oh. Had he hooked up with the wrong girl? That could explain…No, that didn't feel right. He might not know where he was or how he had gotten here, but he _did_ know he was married. This guy had it all wrong. And what else had he said? Han felt like it was something essential, but his brain was so foggy he couldn't quite grab onto what it was. Oh, well, if they'd just give him some clothes, he would figure out where he was and explain, talk his way out of whatever mess he had gotten into...

"The time for joking, it is not," chided the tiny green being.

The man with the shaved head huffed. "For the love of…just… _imagine_ yourself clothed," he said, waving a hand in Han's direction.

Han didn't understand, but the man's tone was so authoritative, he did as he was told. To his shock, he was immediately wearing blue pants with a snazzy red stripe up the sides, black boots, a cream v-neck shirt and a vest. He grinned and jumped up. "Hey! My favorite outfit! And I'm so fit!" He ran his hands over his sides and belly.

" _That's_ your favorite outfit? And did you just use the word 'outfit'?" The familiar wavy-haired man said.

"Yeah. And much as I'd love to talk fashion with you, pal, can somebody please, for the love of credits, tell me where the kriff I am and how I got here?"

They all exchanged concerned glances.

"You don't remember _anything_?" This came from the man with the strawberry beard.

Han shook his head. It was all so vague and blurry.

"What's the last thing you recollect?" Asked beardy.

"Uhhh…" Han struggled to recall. "I was in the _Falcon_. I had gone…somewhere. I think I was trying to…blow something up? Yeah, that feels right. But then I'm always trying to blow shit up, so…but this was an…oscillator? Yeah. I think that's what it was called. And I was hiding? Looking for…what? And…" It was coming back now, slowly, in bits and parts. Snow. Thermal detonators. "Hey! I was talking to…you…and… _you_!" He pointed at the familiar-looking figure. "You're…aw shit. Vader…Anakin. I was looking for someone, calling them. For Leia. I wanted to…take him home… Then…I was on a bridge." His face crumpled… "Ben." His hand went to his chest. He looked shocked that there was no wound there.

"Aaaaand he's caught up," Anakin said.

"I'm dead." He looked directly at Anakin. "And this is hell."

"Anakin. Do you remember our conversations about sensitivity?" Beardy said, pinching his lips together.

The smallest of the figures spoke again. "Hell this is not. A Force Ghost, you are."

"And the first non-Jedi to manage it," added the man with the shaved head. "I'm not sure how, but I've got a feeling this one is to blame." He jerked his chin at Anakin.

"No. No, no, no," Anakin said. "This is not my fault. I mean, I might have sort of wished…thought…for Leia, how unfair it was…and I might have kind of…reached out? But I don't know how it happened, exactly." He looked down, shuffled his feet on the weird light-floor. Han would have found it amusing, seeing _Darth Vader_ behaving like a scolded schoolboy, if it weren't for, well, the rest of it. "I didn't _do_ anything, not consciously. If he's here, it's because the Force wanted him here."

"Hmmm." the little green one closed his eyes, inhaled, and licked his lips as if he was tasting something in the air. "No darkness do I sense. Sacrificed himself for another, he did. Enough, it could be. Agree with young Skywalker, I do. Here, the Force wanted him. A reason, there must be."

Han did chuckle, then, at hearing Vader referred to as 'young Skywalker'.

Beardy – young Old Ben Kenobi, he knew now - stepped in. "I think he's right. Maybe Anakin is partly responsible, but I think the Force sent Han to us, and I think I know why; we need his help."

"Help?" Han asked. "What kind of help? And who _are_ all of you?"

"With your son, of course. And we're Jedi. Or we were. Anakin and I you know. This is Mace Windu, Qui-Gon Jinn and Master Yoda."

"Luke's Yoda?" Han asked.

The little green alien nodded. "Happy we are to have you here. Much trouble your son has caused."

Han rubbed his hand over his face. "No shit. You think he's caused _you_ 'much trouble'?"

"Don't hold the killing against him. Anakin here killed Obi-Wan and helped kill Mace, and they've gotten over it. And Obi-Wan cut off both of Anakin's legs. Shit happens." The tall one named Qui-Gon said, as if he were talking about cutting someone off in traffic on Coruscant.

Han just gawked at them, shaking his head slowly.

"And, hey, you tried to kriffing _shoot_ me on Bespin," Anakin said.

"You were gonna torture us!"

"You didn't know that!"

"I wasn't _wrong_!"

"No physical body and I still have a headache," the one called Mace said.

"Hush. Forgave the boy, you already did," Yoda interrupted. "Know that, we do. Come to terms with it, you will."

Han sighed. He supposed that was true. _They_ all seemed to be pals now. And this, he supposed, was his new reality. Might as well get used to it. Still, it was a lot to digest. "I don't guess Force ghosts can have a good stiff drink, can they?"

"No, but we have something better." Young Old Ben Kenobi held out a hand, a soft, warm golden light flowing from his fingers, gliding toward Han.

"Hey, what the…" the light hit him, and he felt warmth coil in his stomach and flow through his veins, calming him, smoothing out his sharp, ragged emotions. It felt like taking a shot of top-shelf Corellian whiskey, but without the blurry fuzziness that usually accompanied imbibing. "Oh. Oh, hey, that's nice. Smooth. Weird, but hey, that seems to be the theme of the day. So uh, thanks, old man."

Obi-Wan gave a nod and a shadow of a smile.

"So, will you help us?" Anakin asked, his eyes large and sincere.

Han had a disconcerting feeling of déjà vu. He hoped he didn't regret this. Again. Still, he was here. He had a chance to do something. And it _was_ his son. "Anything," he said, his voice low and gruff.

Anakin nodded, a wave of something – regret maybe – whatever it was, it was thick and purple – flowing from him. "Then I have an idea."

The others all groaned.

Han cocked his head to the side. "It might just be that Force-booze-stuff talking, but I say we hear him out," he said.

Anakin smirked. "Nice to see _someone_ appreciates me."

"This better be good," Han growled.

They all just stared at Anakin, silent and skeptical.

"Well," He started, "If someone could have…given me…Padme…back…well, I would have listened to them…"

Mace gave Anakin the side-eye. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's pretty much what caused all the problems in the first place."

Old Ben stroked his beard. "Your plan is to do what Palpatine did to you? I really don't think…"

Anakin frowned. "No. Well, yes. But no. Look, yeah, I got fooled by someone with an ulterior motive. He wanted to use me, and I fell for it. But _my_ motives are pure. This isn't about _me_."

There was a collective gasp.

"Your faith in me is heartwarming," he said, sarcasm lacing every word. "But you don't believe me? See for yourselves," He spread his hands wide, closed his eyes, and turned toward the others inviting…something. Han wasn't sure what.

Whatever it was seemed to satisfy them, because the one called Mace made a circling motion with his hand that meant _continue_.

"Anyway, that's sort of my point. It'll work. She's a lot like me, just better. Plus, Palpatine was _lying_. I won't be. I can _deliver_." He gestured to Han. "After a fashion, anyway. And if I can just get her to listen to me…"

Han's eyes widened with sudden understanding. " _Her_? Wait, you mean _Leia_?"

They all looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Hey, I can't do that mind-reading thing, okay. You guys gotta tell me what's going on in your noggins. So your plan involves _you_ trying to talk to _Leia_? _Now_? And using me as some sort bait?"

"I prefer to think of it as a peace offering."

Han looked at Anakin, cocked an eyebrow. "I gotta give you points for having some massive balls. I'm in."

"Really?" Anakin looked doubtful.

"Hell yeah. My wife's gonna rip you a new one, and I wouldn't miss it."

He couldn't be sure, but he thought Anakin paled just a little. Yeah, he should be scared.

"Uh, guys, you might want to take a look at this," the tall Jedi said, waving a hand and creating a sort of window into a dark, snowy forest. The boy, the girl, and the ex-Stormtrooper were there, facing each other.

"What the…I thought you made sure she got out of there," Anakin snapped at Obi-Wan.

"I did. She must have gone back."

"She came back to help us," Han said, his voice soft.

"Do we need to…"

"No," Mace spoke with a calm authority. "This was meant to be. They must fight."

"Oh. This is when she kicks his ass!" Anakin said, grinning.

"Hey! That's my kid!"

"And my grandson. Don't worry. They won't kill each other. We've foreseen that. Besides, I think we both know there's nothing hotter than a woman that we know can kick our asses."

Han sighed. On that fact, at least, he had to agree with his father-in-law. He was silent for a beat, then he blinked. "Wait, hotter? Do you mean you think Rey…and Ben…"

"That part was his idea." Anakin pointed at Obi-Wan. "But yeah, they're totally into each other…"

Han turned to Obi-Wan. "What the…? She's just a kid!"

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "She may be young but she is most certainly not _just a kid_. She is my great-niece, fierce and pure and stronger than she knows. And I would pit her midichlorian count against his any day."

"Huh? Rey has the Force? And she's related to you?" Han shook his head. "Of course she is. But… he's trying to kill her."

"No. He's trying very hard _not_ to, even if he doesn't realize it. She, on the other hand, is indeed trying to kill him. She's as fierce as a feral tooka-cat. But she'll come around." Obi-Wan smiled a cryptic smile.

Han rolled his eyes. "Your great-niece? And he's your idea of great boyfriend material for her? A homicidal dark-sider? I mean, he's my kid and all but…he's kind of a mess."

"I meditated long and hard on this. It is the will of the Force; the path to balance." Then Obi-Wan's face lost some of its mystical placidity and he shrugged. "And you have to admit, Skywalkers might be full of sound and fury and drama, but they do have a certain charm."

Han, once again, couldn't argue with that.

Since it seemed to be the thing to do, he joined his new pals in front of the weird window-on-the-world and watched from above as the battle played out below.

* * *

Because I can't let Han just be gone. And maybe there's a bit of a 'No Exit' influence – if hell is other people, then what is spending eternity with your father-in-law, who happens to be Darth Vader? Well, Han would probably say, "I dunno, but it ain't good." But he's going to get to help save his son. And see Leia again. ;)

The chapter title comes from the poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas. Maybe it's a little cliché, but it really fit this chapter. I mean, here's the last stanza:

 _And you, my father, there on the sad height,_

 _Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray._

 _Do not go gentle into that good night._

 _Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

Many thanks to Perry Downing for being a great beta and great friend! I so appreciate your help and comments!

Thank you so much for reading and commenting; I'm not feeling especially confident about this story; I know it's a little odd because it's really serious and also has some weird humor? And I'm really struggling through this section, but I can't just leave it unfinished. And once I get past the end of the movie, I think it will be more fun. So thanks to those of you who have stuck with it, and I hope I did a decent job with this scene, because it was just hard to write and think about and deal with. But Han is not totally gone, so there's that. Next chapter, the snow fight, so some Reylo feels! Obi-Wan and Anakin ship it; Han still needs some convincing. Plus a Han/Leia reunion with Dad as chaperone. So that won't be weird at all.


	32. 32 - Gyre

DARK SIDE SPIRIT OF EMPEROR PALPATINE

Plagueis – or Snoke, as he called himself now - was communicating with that simpering general, directing him to salvage what he could – including the troublesome apprentice - and then cut their losses and flee as the planet shook and collapsed around his hologram. The General turned and fled, his face an even whiter shade of pale than usual.

"You underestimated them," Palpatine's voice sneered at his former master.

"Just as you did," Plagueis hissed back.

"Ah. But you had my miscalculation from which to learn, had you bothered to do so." His shadow flickered in what might have been amusement. "Those who refuse to learn from history…and so on."

"I am in no humor for a lecture, _Sheev_."

"Indeed, I expect not." Disgust rippled through the shadow that was the former emperor as the planet-weapon rumbled from deep in its core. The _Resistance_ , that pathetic, messy little group led by his own former apprentice's girl spawn, had managed to destroy this magnificent weapon.

 _Leia_. He had underestimated that one especially.

One of Palpatine's many regrets was that he had allowed his deep bias against females to make him blind to the fact that she, the rebel princess, was the Skywalker child who was most suited to the dark side. Brilliant and unbreakable and full of icy, contained fury. She would not have let sentiment stop her from dispatching Vader – he could sense her hatred for the man who had sired her even now. If he had succeeded in turning her, she would have been the perfect weapon, the epitome of the dark apprentice, and eventually, when he had taught her all he could, he would have been proud to die at her hand and let her take the title of Empress. Instead he had wasted his time with that farm boy, who was so full of light and hope and optimism that it was blinding. Then, anyway. He wondered about now.

Oh well. This was not the time for such ruminations. Luke Skywalker had disappeared completely and Leia Organa was staunchly fighting for the light.

He stared at his former master, a hologram on this crumbling world, in reality safe in his own stronghold. He had once thought this man was clever beyond any other. But now he wondered if Darth Plagueis the Wise was so wise after all. His planet was crumbling, his weapon destroyed, his apprentice weakened, not strengthened (oh, yes, he could sense that) by killing Han Solo.

Speaking of weakness, he now saw the one to which Plagueis fell prey; he could not read people. He had badly misjudged his first apprentice and died for it (Palpatine felt something like a chuckle ripple through his spirit at the thought, seeing as he had been that apprentice) and now he had misjudged this one.

While a part of Palpatine wanted nothing more than to see his former master fail, his allegiance to the dark side was too strong to allow the light to triumph out of some petty grudge.

He would, it seemed, have to take matters in his own hands.

He had but to think it and he was there, in the snowy forest on Starkiller Base - or what was left of it.

The apprentice and the scavenger were fighting, lightsabers flashing and sparking against one another, a strange energy flowing between them - something that tied them together and held them in check even as they battled. He had never seen anything like it, but something about it sparked a memory, some ancient legend…he would have to think on it later. Whatever it was, it was…disconcerting.

A crack opened up in the ground; the apprentice had the scavenger backed up against the edge of a cliff. She had nowhere to go. He could dispatch her with ease.

Palpatine let tendrils of darkness waft out, tried to wrap them around the Skywalker boy; beautiful, seductive darkness that would show him the way. One strike, one push, one shove. _Do it_ , he thought.

Instead, the apprentice eased the pressure on his saber and spoke. "You need a teacher. I can show you the ways of the Force."

Inconceivable. Had Plagueis not even _tried_ to crush the light in this boy? Or was he that enamored of this scavenger girl that he was willing to ignore all his training? Palpatine's shadow darkened. What a nauseating thought.

And then the stupid boy let her in, opened his mind and let her _see_ what he knew, what he could teach her, let her take everything, and there again was that strange something, that connection, strands of energy - light and dark and in-between - stronger now, binding them together with something that felt permanent and luminous and invulnerable.

She felt it, but she rejected the offer, too horrified by what she had just witnessed to acknowledge the boy. Instead she took what he showed her and used it against him, and now they were fighting again, faster, fiercer.

The boy's emotions were all over the place, vast and endless and out of control. There was anger, there was fear and self-loathing, but also compassion, and wounded pride, and a strange fascination with the girl that was tinged at the edges with something bright and warm and sickly sweet. But the strongest emotion the boy was feeling was regret; deep, vast, endless, hopeless regret. And defiance – a refusal to take another innocent life.

That would not do.

The girl, however…the girl was a bristling ball of anger. She was furious with the boy, for murdering her new mentor, wounding and perhaps killing the defected Stormtrooper she unaccountably cared about. She was practically snarling with hurt and loss and fury and confusion.

 _That_ he could work with.

Plagueis would thank him for giving him a new, stronger apprentice, as _he_ had once been glad to rid himself of Dooku in favor of Anakin Skywalker.

He bent all his efforts toward her. He would not make the mistake of equating gender with weakness again. She would be the apprentice Plaqueis needed to eliminate the Resistance once and for all. She had no connections to them, none of this messy familial history. She was raw power, without the Skywalker instability.

He sent waves of darkness toward her, fueling her anger and ferocity, and she drank it in like water.

 _Yes, take it, girl, use it. Feel the power._

He could see it, the darkness, eclipsing the fierce light that permeated her, but as yet unable to drive it out.

"Kill him," he whispered, pushing his voice inside her head.

REY

She felt the voice more than heard it. _Amorphous, unidentifiable, raw. Pure vengeful emotion._

She stood over Kylo Ren, ferocious, remorseless, teeth bared as he seemed to give in, resign himself to the inevitable. She could finish him, here and now. _So easy. So quick._

Then the ground shifted and she stumbled, shaken out of the grip of the darkness so that she came back to herself and was able to think again, was able to see him…not a terrifying warrior, but a vulnerable, broken individual.

She recoiled, blinking, as she recognized the light in him – and the dark side in herself.

She backed up, one step, then two, then she turned and ran.

FORCE GHOST JEDI COUNCIL (PLUS HAN, WHO HAS NO IDEA WHAT HE'S DOING BUT IS TRYING TO HELP ANYWAY)

They gasped out a collective sigh of relief and fatigue. Ripping a planet apart in just the right spot was not anything any of them had practiced for, and it was grueling.

Their consciousnesses mingled, but that was all. They didn't have the strength even for thoughts just yet. Still, it had worked. It had broken the grip of the dark side on the girl. But it was near thing. Too near.

LEIA

She was numb. Again. Seemed to be that more and more often, she had to resort to tamping her pain down into a box in the corner of her mind so she could function, because she had no choice. She had to go on. She didn't get to let herself fall apart. She was the General.

She felt like she was moving through some sort of thick sludge, like on that one planet she had visited with the inexplicable cool plasma atmosphere. Fighting her way through something so dense and heavy it threatened to immobilize her. But she kept moving, steps slow but methodical. One foot in front of the other, heel-toe-heel-toe. Every step an effort, unsure if she could manage the next one but somehow, she did. She felt the hard ground under her feet, the slight thrum of the engines of the ships. She wanted to give up, hide in her room, disappear. But Chewie…she had to meet him as soon as he arrived to - console him? No. There was no consolation. Empathize, maybe. Share their loss.

One foot in front of the other. Toward the familiar ship. The _Falcon_. Hulking, ugly thing. Flying brick. _You came in that? You're braver than I thought._ Hunk of junk. _Home_.

She was walking toward Chewbacca when she saw… _her_. A grown woman now, but those eyes, brown and gold and blue and green all swirling together - she'd recognize them anywhere.

Those eyes met hers, and they were so sorrowful, so full of pain. Leia opened her arms, folded the girl in an embrace, and held her, tears flowing as the Force rolled between them, sighing in grief and humming in recognition.

She knew this young woman. She had seen her birth, in a dream – a vision. Then, at the academy – the sole survivor, the one he had saved – spared - whatever. This woman, so young, so confused, so overwhelmed, was hope. Light. All that was right in the world. And yet, Leia also sensed…her son. Something, a tiny flicker of him with her. She didn't know what to make of that. Whatever it was, she didn't sense any threat, any darkness, any harm…just an echo of him.

When they pulled away, Leia whispered, "It's you."

The girl blinked, dashed a hand under her eyes to wipe away the tears. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Leia tilted her head. "Who…oh."

"How do you all seem to know who I am?" The young woman asked. "When I'm not even sure myself?"

Leia smiled. "I…don't know. I don't even know your name, but I know _you_."

"Rey. I'm Rey."

Leia smiled, gentle and sad. "Rey. Like a ray of hope. We need you."

Then she gave the girl's hands a final squeeze and turned to find Chewbacca.

DOCTOR HARTER KALONIA

Her first priority had been the young man, the defected Stormtrooper. He was badly injured, but he would survive.

Once he was stable and the medication had started doing its work, Dr. Kalonia had sought out General Organa. Ostensibly to update her on the defector's condition. She had run into the new girl, the one who had been captured, on the way and offered to check her over, but the girl declined, insisting that she was fine and asking about the trooper…Finn, she called him. Dr. Kalonia reassured her that her friend would be alright, and that seemed to be the best medicine she could have given the girl. Poor kid, dragged into all of this so suddenly.

The doctor continued to the General's office. She submitted her report and was thanked, the 'thank you' sounding a lot like 'dismissed'. Harter Kalonia lingered, standing by the general's desk.

"Is there anything else, Doctor?" Leia finally asked, resignation in her voice.

"Are you…"

"I'm fine." The answer was too quick, too dismissive. It was what she always said. It was what she said when the doctor gave her the casualty reports after a battle. It was what she had said when she was in labor, teeth gritted, beads of sweat popping out on her forehead, face red with effort. _I'm fine._

Eleven hours later, after the 21B droid had cleaned him up, Harter had placed a small, screaming black-haired bundle in Leia's arms while Han watched with the goofiest, most sincere grin on his face Dr. Kalonia had ever seen, and all the exhaustion, all the effort, all the pain had left Leia's face, replaced with a glowing smile.

"General, it's alright to feel…"

"No. It isn't. Not for me. I'm fine. I'll be fine. I have to. Thank you for the update on the young man's condition."

Dr. Kalonia sighed. She would not be intimidated into letting this go. "General. _Leia_. We've know each other for decades. You are not _fine_. No one would be. At least let me give you a sedative. Something for your nerves, to help you sleep. Just for tonight." She tilted her head and spoke in her low, calm, bedside-manner voice.

Leia thanked her and, of course, refused, saying she could not let her senses be dulled.

"Well, let me know if you change your mind," Harter said, knowing that pushing more would do no good.

ANAKIN

"You ready?"

Han – his daughter's husband – cocked his head and quirked his lips. "I was _born_ ready."

Anakin sighed and rolled his eyes. _This_ guy. What was Leia thinking?

LEIA

They needed to evacuate. Relocate the base. 'Bug out' the old timers called it. Soon. It would be an undertaking. Finding a new location, moving all their resources…still it had to be done. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would set the evac into motion. She had that long. She tossed and turned, alone in the bed she had actually hoped to share with her husband again a few hours ago.

Sleep was elusive, but it finally came. Not that it was much of an escape.

It was the old dream. The Vader dream; the one that had once terrified her so. She was lying on the bench, in the cell, when the door whooshed open and Darth Vader swept in, cape streaming, respirator hissing in and out.

It had always induced panic, terror, dread.

This time, she felt _nothing_.

She blinked at him. Sith Lord. Father. " _You_. I'm not even afraid of you anymore." Her voice was flat. She lay listlessly on the bench, not even bothering to lift her head.

"No?"

"No. I thought what you did was the worst thing that could be done to me, the worst thing I'd ever experience. Torture. Pain. Making me watch as Alderaan, as everything I knew and loved, was destroyed. Han…freezing him. But now I know how wrong I was. Now I've truly lost everything. Felt the worst pain imaginable. And I'm still here. I don't know why, but I'm still here. So no, you don't frighten me anymore. There's nothing you can do that will make me hurt more than I already do."

"Good." And he shifted, from the Vader of her nightmares to the Anakin Skywalker she had only seen on old holos, with his soft wavy hair and impossibly young face.

She blinked. This was new.

"Then will you listen to me?"

So was that.

"Will you let me help you?"

Now she sat up, leaning forward, eyes flashing. " _Help_ me? Like you helped Ben?" Her voice was full of venom.

"I tried. That call to the light? That was me. That's been me for twenty years."

"Well, great job. It's worked so well. He killed his father today."

Anakin sighed. "I know. But I _can_ help you. And him."

"No one can help me now. Or him." Her voice was listless, flat.

"I beg to differ. And I have a…a peace offering. Come on in," he said to someone outside the door.

"What's the magic word?" A voice…an impossible, familiar, teasing voice, said. Dream-Leia stood up.

Anakin closed his eyes, made a face. "Please? Will you _pleeeaaasse_ come in, like we planned?"

Han – young Han, the way he had looked when they first met - stepped through the door. "There. Was that so hard?" He held his hands out at his side, palms up, and smirked at Anakin, then crossed the room to Leia.

"Han! How…I thought only Jedi could…"

"I spent my whole life defying the odds. No reason a little thing like dying should change that."

"Oh, Han!" She started toward him, stopped. "Can I…can I hug you?"

He nodded. "Since it's a dream, you can hug me, kiss me…anything else you wanna do to me." He wiggled his eyebrows. "At least, that's what this asshole says." He jerked his chin toward Anakin, who glared back.

She threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her up in his arms. She reached up and kissed him right on the mouth, long and hard. "Oh, Han, I'm sorry! I wouldn't have asked if I had thought…"

He sat her on her feet. "Shhh. Shhh." He soothed her, running his hands over her hair, down her back, over her firm young bottom.

"Hey! Hands!" Anakin said.

Han shot him a sideways glance. "Seriously? You're gonna play the dad card? Now?"

"It's my card. I'll play it if I want to."

"You lost the right to play it when you tortured us. Froze me in carbonite and gave me to Jabba," Han snapped.

"You deflowered my daughter at my funeral. I think we're even," Anakin shot back.

"Oh, we are a long way from even!"

"Boys!" Leia said, and they both shut up. Then she turned to Anakin and her lips curved up in a smile that was positively evil. "You think _that_ was the first time? How precious."

"Leia, that's just mean," Han said.

"Mean?" She raised her eyebrows, pointed at her chest. " _I'm_ mean?"

Anakin clenched his fists.

Han chuckled, then pretended it was a cough, and kissed his wife again.

When he finally pulled away, she just stared at him, hands touching his cheek, his mouth, his chin. "Are you really real? Or is this just a dream that'll make me cry even harder when I wake up?"

"I'm real. I'm here. And I'll be right there when you wake up. I'm never leaving you again, Leia, I swear. Never. And we're going to get Ben back. I promise." He kissed her soundly one more time.

Anakin cleared his throat. "Right, about that. Your boy. You haven't lost him yet. You can still fight for him."

Leia deflated. "I don't know if I have any fight left."

"I can help with that. I can give you a whole new arsenal."

"How? The dark side?" She snapped. "Because I won't…"

"No. NO. I don't do that anymore."

Han caught her eye. "It's okay, sweetheart. He's got a whole Force Ghost Jedi Council up there keeping him in line."

"Jedi Council?" Leia asked.

Anakin nodded, ticking them off on his fingers. "Obi-Wan – you know, Old Ben Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Mace Windu, Yoda."

"Yoda? Luke's Yoda? You're with him?"

Anakin nodded.

"Yeah, and I gotta say, that little green fucker can be annoying. Am I right?" He looked at Anakin, who gave a shrug and a nod.

"And you can teach me things? Show me things?"

He nodded again.

She considered it, letting the idea settle. Military action alone had not been enough. Maybe…"Something I can use to end Snoke?"

"Oh, most definitely."

"Something I can use to _find_ him?"

Anakin grinned and waved a hand, producing what looked like a star chart out of thin air. "Unknown regions." He pinched his fingers together then spread them wide, zooming in. "Trappist system. Fifth planet from the star. In a fortress perched on the edge of a cliff aaaand…" he pinched and opened his fingers again… "If this blueprint is correct, currently using the 'fresher."

She met his eyes – her father's eyes – light and dark and flashing, like her own. And a grim smile ghosted her face.

"I'm listening."

"This… _Snoke_. We've been watching, studying. I know who he is, what he was, where he came from. I know how to fight him. And I can teach you, train you, and the girl. Rey. She's…connected to your boy. It's complicated and I'd like for Obi-Wan to help explain. And if we can find Luke, well, that'd be three of you. All strong in the Force, all with the same goal. You'd be invincible."

A panorama of emotions flickered over her face, but the one that settled there was the one she wore most often: hopeful determination. "How soon can we start?"

Anakin grinned. "In the morning. As soon as you wake up."

She gave a single sharp nod.

"Umm, you know, it's not morning yet, highness," Han said, pulling her close.

Leia looked up, hands tracing over Han's eyebrows, his nose, his mouth. "I can't believe you're here. I thought I'd never see you again."

"I know. But apparently, that's not how the Force works, Princess."

"Oh, Han," she whispered.

"You look…"

"Like I did the first time you met me?" She waved a hand around. "Wonder why?"

"You always look like you did the first time I met you, sweetheart," Han said, his eyes taking in every centimeter of her face. "So. This is that dream?"

She gave a tight nod. "Mmm."

"You can feel things here, right?"

"Yes, thanks for reminding me…" She had woken, so many nights, screaming, drenched in sweat, clinging to Han.

He put a finger on her lips. "Shhh. Stay with me, highness. We're here, in this Force dream. We have these gorgeous young bodies, and we've had years of practice getting to know exactly how to use them. And we can _feel things_ here. What's that saying about lemons and lemonade?"

She couldn't help herself. She stood on her tiptoes and caught his lips in a desperate kiss. "Did you feel that?"

"All the way to my…"

"Han!" She smacked his shoulder. "You _are_ a scoundrel!"

"Damn right. That's why you like me, Princess." His voice shifted, grew more serious. "I don't know how or why a princess fell for a scoundrel like me, but even when it was bad…I was grateful every day that you did."

"No need to charm me, Solo. You came back from the dead for me. You're gonna get laid."

Han grinned, leaned down and kissed her again, pressing into her and bending her backwards, his hands moving over her back. She felt it all the way to her toes.

Anakin cleared his throat. "I'm feeling extremely uncomfortable right now, if anyone cares."

Breaking the kiss only momentarily, Leia cut her eyes at Anakin. "You should leave now, _Dad_ , or this dream is going to get real awkward, real fast."

Anakin held up his hands in an 'I-surrender' gesture and faded away as quickly as he could.

* * *

Some of the verbiage for Rey's rejection of the dark side is from the official TFA script.

Thank you to my beta, Perry Downing, for reading and giving me feedback! Hugs to you!

Thank you for your reviews, faves and follows. I so appreciate it!


	33. 33 - Things Fall In Line

_Note: I've sort of lost my motivation/muse/direction with this story; it was my first attempt at a long SW fic and I've got so many upcoming chunks of it written but I'm also really stuck in places; still, it's my baby and I love it and I can't stand to leave it unfinished. So I've decided to try something new and just go through and clean up and connect what I've already written as best I can and post as quickly as I can in an effort to finish this in a way that is at least somewhat satisfying to me and to all of you who have been following this for so long. I'm not going to bother my beta because this will inevitably be sort of rough anyway, especially the bits that are fighting me. I just need to finish this before TLJ comes out. So here goes – I hope it works out._

* * *

LEIA

When she woke up, she felt oddly loose and mellow in a way she hadn't in _years_. She yawned, stretched, surprised by the absence of tension in her muscles. Han. She could still almost feel his arms around her, hear him breathing, smell the leather and hyperdrive-fuel smell that always clung to him. But reality was seeping back in, a reality that she didn't want to return to. Because in reality, she would never smell that scent or feel those arms around her again. She lingered for a few seconds somewhere between dream and reality, but like they always do, the dream faded and she finally let it go and opened her eyes.

"Finally! I never realized how _long_ sleeping took. And how weird people look when they do it."

She nearly fell out of her bed, jumping up, stumbling backwards, dragging the sheet with her.

Because there sat Han, reclining on his side of the bed, hands behind his head, ankles crossed, smartass smirk firmly in place. He was also quite transparent, and glowing a bit.

She blinked. "Han. You're…you're…here. You're real."

He spread his hands. "In the…well, I guess not in the flesh but, yeah. I'm here, your princessness. Just like I promised. I'll never leave you again – although I won't always be visible. It takes a lot of concentration."

She dropped the sheet, opened and closed her mouth several times, staring.

"I don't think I've ever seen you speechless." He grinned. "Almost worth the trouble of dying to see that."

"That's not funny!" She snapped.

"It was a little funny," he countered.

She narrowed her eyes. "So all that, last night…it wasn't just a dream?"

"Nope."

"So I'm supposed to be meeting with…a bunch of dead people this morning?"

"Yup."

"And one of them is…Anakin Skywalker?"

He nodded.

She pressed her lips together. "Alright then."

She did not, in fact, get to meet with the Force Ghosts first thing. Artoo had powered up, and he had the rest of the map that led to her runaway brother. After that, everything kicked into high gear and a quick expedition was organized – Chewbacca, Artoo and the girl, Rey, would find Luke, convince him to train Rey, to come back, to help them.

Then there was a new base to locate, the relocation to coordinate…it was well into the evening when she closed the door to her private conference room, sank into her chair at the head of the table and waited for her guests to…materialize.

They did – Han first, then Anakin, Old Ben Kenobi looking not-so-old, several others, and a tiny green being that had to be Yoda.

Leia had led many meetings, but none as odd as this. Still, she was nothing if not diplomatic, so she took a deep breath and called the bizarre committee to order.

The Force Ghosts began with quick introductions, then they shared what they knew, about Snoke, about Palpatine; what they had tried to do and how it had failed; they asked her questions and tried to answer the ones she asked, and explained their current plan. Old Ben – Obi-Wan – did most of the talking, followed by Anakin and the others.

When they were halfway through – up to the point where Rey and…Leia swallowed - her son…had fought, she held up a hand, asked them to give her a moment. She sat in contemplative silence, her gaze moving around the table, looking each of them in the eyes.

Finally she spoke.

"So, let me get this straight. Your brilliant plan was to send a raw nineteen year old girl in, blind, to fight a well-trained, extremely committed, not to mention _enormous_ , darksider?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Looking back, maybe not my best move. But, uh, she reminded me of you."

Leia narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't try to flatter me, Ben Kenobi. I've spent my entire life in politics. I can smell bantha-shit a mile away."

"And besides, my hope was the fighting part wouldn't last too long. They were…connected. Even before we got involved. Their destinies were intertwined before they were ever born, probably before you were born, going back to Anakin and me…I'm not sure why, but I saw, through the Force…they were destined to meet one way or another – whether in battle or, well, other ways. Less combative ways." He was staring at the table.

"Would you get to the point?" She asked, voice sharp.

"I thought if they met they might sense the connection. That they might be, umm, attracted to each other. That they might, well, feel it."

Leia's mouth fell open a little.

"Let me just say, on record, that I had no part in the Rey plan," Anakin said.

"Oh, right, your plan of shouting into the void worked out so much better!" Obi-Wan sniped.

"Well, throwing the desert girl in like that, totally unprepared? It was ill-thought out and irresponsible and…"

"And appearing to the kid as Vader? How could you think that was a good idea?"

"I…I…thought I'd get to say something. Tell him not to follow my path. But it just made it worse. That seems to be my specialty."

The rest of the Jedi rolled their eyes.

Anakin glared at them. "So we decided to try Obi-Wan's plan. The redeeming power of love. I mean, it worked for me, but he doesn't have a child so, well…" He shrugged.

Leia sighed.

"Thirty years. Four Jedi Masters, one former Sith Lord and now _my husband_ , and your best idea is to _get my son laid_?"

They all looked at their hands.

"And did any of you bother to ask Rey if she wanted to be…involved…in this little scheme? No, of course you didn't. Sexist moof-milkers. If you had some women on your little council…"

"There were lots of female Jedi," Anakin interjected. "My padawan, Ahsoka Tano. She was great."

Leia tilted her head. "And where is she now?"

Anakin lowered his eyes. "Uh, she left the order because she was falsely accused of sedition; she was exonerated and asked to come back, but after that, she didn't feel valued or respected so she left to find her own path."

Leia sighed and gave them all a withering look. "Well, the first thing we do when Rey gets back with Luke is tell her everything, and let _her_ decide if she wants any part of this."

They all nodded. Then Anakin stood. "Well. This has all been very enlightening, but I think we've done enough talking for the day. It's time for some action."

Leia looked at him. "What do you mean?"

The corner of his lip curved up. "Well. I _did_ promise you some new tools for fighting Snoke. I mean, I assume you're not averse to using, umm, aggressive negotiations?"

"What are those?"

His smile grew. "Negotiations with a lightsaber."

"You want to teach me to use a lightsaber?"

He nodded. "And some Force powers. No dark side, I swear. If you feel comfortable with that."

She met his eyes, and a matching smile spread over her face. "It's about damn time someone offered," she said.

KYLO REN

He was floating in a river of pain; it seared him like fire, licked at him like flames across his face and shoulder; clawed into his side and pinched like red-hot pliers. The medical staff, on Hux's orders, kept him sedated, not to ease his pain – the sedative didn't do that - but to keep him docile, manageable. Med droids tended him; no sentient dared come into his sight. He had no idea how long he had been there or how long he would remain. He only knew he had never been so lost, so alone. He drifted in and out of a drugged sleep, frustrated because every time he felt his awareness coming back, every time he gained any sense of clarity, he felt the cold trickle of the sedative being released into his veins and he drifted again. He tried to rip the needle out, with his hand, with the Force, but he couldn't, and he faded again, falling into a black nothingness so deep he thought he might drown in it.

Then he felt something cool and soft stroking his face, smelled sun and sand and _her_ , and he managed to drag his eyes half-open.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over him, gently cleaning his wound.

"How…" he strained to speak, his voice harsh and rusty.

"Shhh. I don't know," she said, and oh, her voice, he had missed her voice. "I'm not, not really."

"I'm dreaming," he said, voice laced with disappointment.

"Or I am. Or both of us." She dipped the cloth into a small bowl, squeezed it out then soothed it over his burning skin again. Cool relief seeped through his entire body.

"Both of us? Dreaming together?" A Force dream then, a shared Force dream. Was that even possible?

"Mmm-hmm." She nodded, continuing to dab the cloth against his face. "It has nightbloomer rind and spinebarrel flesh in it." She indicated the bowl of water. "Desert plants. The nightbloomer rind is antiseptic and good for burns, and the spinebarrel relieves pain. It will help you heal."

He blinked at her. "Why?" He asked. "Why help me? After what I did? All I did?"

She stopped her ministrations, looked him in the eyes. "You were in so much pain. I felt it. I couldn't…I couldn't stand it. Luke says we're connected somehow; he doesn't quite understand it but he thinks it happened when you…when I…anyway he's found some ancient text about it but it's just bits and pieces and doesn't make a lot of sense. But I…I couldn't just let you suffer. I would have thought the First Order would have the best bacta tanks and pain meds available."

"They do. But not for me. Pain is instructive."

Her eyebrows drew together, forming a tiny line between them. "What a pile of bantha shit. A festering wound isn't _instructive_ , unless you want to learn what gangrene looks like." He blinked, stunned by her quick, matter-of-fact dismissal of what had been drilled into him for so long; at the fact that he knew, knew on a deep. Instinctive level, that she was right. And if she was right about that…

She scowled and wet the cloth again and began dabbing at his neck. "This will help heal the burn and drive out the infection." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of dry green blossoms, put them in her mouth and chewed, spit them into her palm, wrung them out and then started packing them into the gash on his face.

He leaned away, reached up, tried to swat her hand away.

She continued, undeterred. "Don't be squeamish. It's just spit. The spinebarrel flowers release a chemical when they're chewed that will numb and heal. I used them when I got cuts or scrapes or burns on Jakku. I'll bring nightblossom petals next time; they're really soothing."

"Next time?"

"If no one else is going to tend you, I guess I will."

They were quiet then, neither knowing what else to say. He studied her face, memorizing every freckle, every eyelash, that little wisp of hair that had escaped her buns and was curling around her temple. Her eyes were somehow every color at once, her nose tipped up at the end and her lips, her lips were so soft and pink. His gaze lingered on them, dipped lower, trailing down her slender neck, dipping to her chest. When she bent forward to tend his face, the fabric gapped open just a little, revealing the tiniest hint of the swell of her breasts, moving under the fabric as she leaned over to wet the cloth again. He wanted to reach up with both hands and grab them, knead and squeeze the soft flesh, push the gauzy fabric away and take one then the other in his mouth…

"Pull your shirt up," she said.

He felt himself blushing fiercely. Had she read his thoughts? Was she suggesting…

"I need to get to the wound on your side."

His blush intensified. "Oh. Right." He pulled the shirt up.

She gasped, a look of horror crossing her face before she composed it again. "You're lucky you're not dead."

He looked away. "Do you think so?" he muttered.

She gave him a long, appraising look. He didn't feel her in his mind, but she might as well have been, because he felt like she knew everything, like she felt the storm that was raging inside him and didn't let it move her. "I do think so. And so does your mother," she said. Then she started applying the cooling solution to his side, and oh, sweet relief. The cool, herb-infused water soothed the hot, angry flesh, and he shuddered and sighed. She worked silently, casting furtive glances at him, at his hair, his eyes, his lips, his chest.

"There," she finally said, dropping the cloth back into the bowl. Their eyes met, and slowly, so slowly, she leaned closer until her face was almost touching his. Her hand was on his uninjured shoulder, her breath was warm on his face. She leaned in a little more and brushed her lips against his brow, so gently, barely touching. Then she was gone.

He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. She had kissed him. Why? Why had she even come to him? How?

He didn't care, as long as she kept coming back.

The next day he was more lucid, less feverish, and all he could think about was Rey.

* * *

Spinebarrel and Nightbloomers/nightblossoms are flowers that grow on Jakku; they're mentioned in the book _Rey's Survival Guide_. There's nothing in there about them having medicinal properties, but a lot of plants do (I've always been fascinated by herbal medicine), and I doubt the Jakku scavengers would have had much access to modern health care, so I decided to make them have some healing properties.

Thank you so much for reading, especially those of you who have stuck with this story since the beginning. I really appreciate you, and don't want to leave you hanging. So, like I said, this is rougher than I like, but I want to finish this story, so I'm putting it out there as is. I hope it was at least somewhat satisfying.


	34. 34 - Forms

ANAKIN

"I don't see what twisting my body into a pepper pretzel or moving rocks from here to there has to do with defeating Snoke," Leia argued. She was wearing loose fleecy leggings, boots and a thick knit tunic. They had been training every morning, starting at sunrise and working until Leia was expected in the command center, in a hidden clearing on the arid, windswept planet that now served as headquarters for the Resistance. The short springy brown grass provided a firm but forgiving base, the circle of trees, thick with deep maroon needles, blocked some of the wind and all of the prying eyes; it was as ideal a training area as they were going to find on this planet.

Anakin sighed. "Forms teach muscle memory, so that when you're fighting, you don't have to think. Your body does the thinking for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, if _that_ isn't something a man would say."

Anakin gritted his teeth. "Look, as soon as Luke and Rey get back, you can start using a lightsaber, dueling a physical opponent, but we don't have either one until then."

"Then Force powers…"

"We tried that. You're not ready."

His daughter was strong in the Force, he could feel it, but she was holding back, not letting herself really tap into the power that had laid dormant within her for so long. He sensed fear, thick and suffocating, flowing from her, keeping her from being able to tap into her abilities. Plus, she was the most stubborn being he had ever met. The more he pushed, the more she resisted.

He had backed off, leaving the more advanced Force powers for later, starting at the beginning of what he remembered of Jedi training.

She huffed at him. "Forms, Breathing. Meditation. Stacking rocks and lifting tree limbs. It's all very nice but it's not getting me any closer to finding Snoke or getting my son back."

"Yes it is. We know how to find Snoke, we just have to be ready to fight him. Now, again. Makashi this time; you seem suited to it, as I once was." He dropped into an opening stance.

She followed, wincing a little but flowing through the form easily.

"Good. Now let's add in some simple Force use. See that rock?" He pointed at a rock the size of his fist.

She gave a nod.

"Keep going through the forms, but try to push that rock toward me."

She did, her face focused, sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip as she tried to move the rock.

"Do you feel it? Do you feel the Force flowing through you?"

She stilled, and he could see that she was searching herself, trying to sense the Force within her. She frowned. "I'm not sure. Does the Force make you feel hot all over? Like you have a furnace inside you and you just need to rip off all your kriffing clothes before you combust?"

Anakin screwed up his face. "Umm. Uh. No. I..I don't think so. I…I'm no expert but I…I think that might be a hot flash? Possibly?"

Leia fixed him with a glare that made his intestines feel like liquid.

"Or uh…something else? But not the Force."

Leia glowered at him, then at the rock. She yanked her fleece tunic over her head and flung it on the ground, standing there in just her tank top and staring at the rock. Nothing happened. Finally she gave a long sigh and slumped out of the position she had been holding. "I can't do it. I'm not strong enough, or maybe I'm too old, but I can't do it."

Anakin frowned. She was powerful, he could feel it, almost see it radiating from her, bright and glowing, but also tightly contained, held inside by a blanket of fear. "You're holding back," he said.

"I'm not."

"You're scared."

She gave him a flat look. "I don't scare. I think we both know that."

His lip curved up. He was well aware of his daughter's fearlessness. But he also knew what he was seeing and feeling. "I think that's the problem. You've never let fear get the best of you before, but this? It scares the hell out of you."

"You're wrong," she said, voice low, and dropped back into position, focusing on the rock. Finally it skidded across the ground a few inches.

It was an effort of will; she could do more. So much more. If she could just get past this block.

"Good. Now again. Move through the forms, move the rock, move the Force. And bend your knees more. It helps lower your center of gravity." He demonstrated.

"I told you already, I cannot put this body into that position. Not at my age."

"If I could manage without legs or, you know, functional lungs, I think you can manage with a few achy joints," he snapped.

She dropped out of position again, crossed her arms over her chest. "Seriously? You're trying to motivate me by reminding me of Vader? Great plan, _dad_." In physical appearance, Leia Organa might have been a respectable matron in her mid-fifties, but in facial expression and body language, she was every bit a defiant teenager. Her eyebrows were lowered, her mouth turned down in pouty scowl, her arms folded, one hip jutted out. She wore the same expression she had the first time he had ever seen her, when she had stared right at the most feared man in the galaxy and stone-cold lied to him without batting an eye.

She was angry now, he thought, current frustration mingling with past resentment. Fine, good, maybe she had to go through it to get past it.

"You're afraid. Of me. Of yourself. Of what might happen if you let yourself use the Force. And if you can't get past that fear, this will never work. So if you care more about staying safe than defeating Snoke and saving your son, tell me now and we'll stop wasting our time like this."

"Kriff you. There is _nothing_ I care more about than saving Ben and crushing Snoke. That bastard took my son from me, twisted him and warped him from the inside out right under my nose, and I couldn't…didn't…stop it. I knew it was happening and I let it, I passed off the responsibility to Luke, I lived in willful denial, pretending it would all be okay, when I knew, I _knew_ that monster was there, trying to lure Ben to the dark side. I pretended it wasn't as bad as it was, and that creature _took_ my son. Took him and made him into…into…" Her face contorted in pain and rage. "I _will_ save Ben, if it's the last thing I do. And if it means sacrificing myself, physically or…otherwise…so be it." She lifted a hand, pulled the rock toward herself, then swung her arm in a wide arc and fired it at Anakin like a missile, sending it right through his forehead.

He instinctively raised a hand to the spot the rock had sailed through, even though he knew he couldn't be injured. "You," he said, looking at his daughter, "would have made a good Sith."

"E chu ta!" She spat. Despite the years, she was every centimeter the raging rebel girl he remembered.

"Hey! Language!"

" _Language_? Seriously?" She snarled. "I'm cold. I'm going to get some caf," she said before turning on her heel and storming away, hand raised in a galactically recognized obscene gesture. "And I would have made an _outstanding_ Sith," she added as she left the clearing.

"Well, that went well," Han said, from the place his spirit had been lounging, invisible, and watching.

"Shut up."

"Not so easy, is it? Parenting?"

"I know what I'm doing."

"Says the guy who cut off his son's hand."

"I don't need parenting advice from a guy whose kid used him as a lightsaber target."

Han made the same obscene gesture his wife had, but his voice was conciliatory. "What about some Leia advice from the only person that ever really understood her?"

Anakin sighed. "Yeah. That might help."

Han grinned and began. "Okay, so. Don't waste her time. Make sure she knows the why behind the what. Remember that she is goal oriented – like laser-guided, precision-targeted goal oriented. And never, ever call her Princess…"

Fifteen minutes later, when Leia returned with a steaming cup of caf and a blank, placid expression on her face, Anakin said, "Well. Now that you know you _can_ control the Force, let's work on doing it without giving in to your darker emotions. Alright Princess?"

A slight flare of her nostrils was the only hint that she was even remotely annoyed.

Anakin grinned. He had pushed her to see what would happen, and she had done exactly what he expected; exactly what he would have done – let her emotions take over, but then she had managed to rein them in. Now she knew what it felt like it, that creeping encroachment of the dark side; now she would know how to avoid it.

Now she could learn.

TRANSITIONAL CRAWL (or - I was stuck on this part so we're skimming over it to get to the good stuff and I tried to write the summary in 'opening crawl' style:)

Having found Luke Skywalker, Rey honed her newfound abilities, while also learning more from Luke about the strange connection she felt with his nephew, and secretly communing with Kylo Ren when she felt his pain the most deeply. Ren grew more and more focused on the girl, while also questioning many of his beliefs. His obsession finally led him to do the only thing he knew to do: follow that connection and find and capture Rey.

KYLO REN

He had been orbiting the small green planet for hours, waiting for the cover of clouds so he could land unobserved. Finally, a large front had rolled in, blanketing the island and allowing him to sneak into the atmosphere. He had flown his personal TIE fighter instead of his shuttle, not trusting even the best First Order pilots to manage the approach with the stealth he required. Now he was on foot, approaching the cluster of huts perched on top of the mountain. He ignored the Force presences of the planet's native inhabitants, caretakers of the ancient Jedi temple for centuries, stalking toward the hut he knew belonged to Rey. He would deal with Skywalker if he had to– distract him, wound him, kill him if necessary; he simply didn't care anymore what happened to him.

He was here for Rey.

And she knew it, meeting him in the doorway of the hut, eyes and lightsaber blazing, fierce and beautiful.

"Why?" She demanded.

"You know why," he said.

"Just because I didn't want to see you suffer doesn't mean I won't hurt you again," she said, tone even.

He smiled behind his helmet. "I know." His lightsaber flared to life, crackling and spitting in the rain, and then she was charging him, and their blades were crashing against each other, and he felt alive again, his senses alert, his skin tingling like it was charged with static.

The fight moved from the hut to the hillside to the cliff, where they once again reached a stalemate, sabers locked, pressing against one another, again. They were too evenly matched, his wounds still not fully healed (although far less painful than they would have been without her help) and her powers growing exponentially as she learned.

He leaned close. "You've grown stronger."

Annoyance flashed over her face as she realized she relished the compliment.

"Oh, I liked that look. Angry." Amusement laced his voice, even with the distortion of the helmet. "Not very Jedi-like, though. Uncle Luke would be disappointed."

"Angry. _Please_. A little irritated, maybe," she growled, straining to hold his light saber back. "Irritated is allowed, especially with someone so kriffing irritating."

He chuckled. "Try angry. You'll push me off easily."

She growled at him, gave a hard Force shove that made him take a step back, boots sliding in the mud. "That's still just irritated, by the way," she added. "I can beat you without using the dark side."

"If that's your preference…of course, I have no such scruples." He leaned in, pressing the sabers closer to her face, so that she felt the heat and heard the crackling energy, then stepped away, watching with amusement as she stumbled forward.

REY

"That was a dirty trick!" She hissed, rolling and scrambling up in the mud. Regaining her footing, she lunged at him. She was losing focus, feeling a surging, delicious energy – and not the kind she felt after an hour of meditation. She slashed at him, driving him back, eyes blazing, until he was backed against the cliff edge and…

"See? Doesn't it feel good?"

She frowned. It did.

"Once you taste the dark side, you can't stop," his voice was like velvet, and she felt it, caressing her, sliding around in her brain. But…

Her eyebrows came together. "Is that a challenge?"

"It's a fact." He leaned closer, his helmeted face inches from hers.

"Wanna bet?"

He paused for a beat, then removed his helmet. He stood very still, studying her, his large expressive eyes probing, trying to get in. Why did he have to take off the damn helmet? As long as he had it on, it was easier to see him as a monster, a creature in a mask. Without it, he was the broken, wounded man she had tended all those nights, the one she was connected to in some strange, incomprehensible way that didn't bother her nearly as much as it should have. Without it she could see the conflict, the despair, the _need_ in those eyes. She could see those full pink lips that she refused to admit she had thought about pressing hers against more than a few times during their strange dream-visits.

He was watching her, intent, focused, "Do you?" He asked.

Oh sweet merciful Force yes. "No." Maybe. What was so strong about the dark side? Why did everyone seem to think even dipping your toes in meant a downward spiral like that of a crippled Star Destroyer entering the atmosphere? What was so wrong with ( _don't look at his lips don't look at his lips don't look at his lips_ ) just a taste? Why did it have to be all or nothing? Why couldn't you take what you wanted and leave the rest, like she did from a crashed Stay Destroyer? "Maybe the dark side isn't as irresistible as you think." She said. _You, on the other hand…_

"Really?" From the expression on his face, she was afraid he was responding to the thought not the words. "If you're so sure the light is stronger, let me teach you. What are you afraid of?"

This was dangerous. She had only been training with Luke for a few months, was barely competent using the Force. She knew so little. Was this what being seduced by the dark side meant? Was that what he was doing? She didn't want to fall to the dark, she wanted to bring him back to the light.

Her eyes widened at that realization. She had never admitted it to herself – maybe she didn't even know – but she did. She very much did. And maybe this was her chance.

"What are _you_ afraid of? If the dark side is so strong, why are you so afraid of the light that keeps calling you?"

He scoffed. "I know what you're thinking. What you're trying to do. It won't work."

She should turn and run. But still…. She considered, then: "I accept."

"What?"

"Your challenge. You want to teach me things? I accept the offer. You can do it through this - whatever-it-is - the same way I healed your wounds. I don't think there's anything wrong with…" her eyes wandered to his lips – full and expressive and sensitive and _kriff I want to bite them_ – "…just a taste." She leaned in, placed a hand on his chest, stood on her toes, her lips barely touching his, her breath mingling with his. His lips were just as soft as she had imagined, frozen at first in shock then opening a little, moving against hers, delicious and hot. He opened his mouth more, pressing her own lips open, his tongue sliding against her lips, against her tongue, mouths moving, lips sliding together creating more heat and making her want…something. She wasn't sure what but it made her feel hot all over. She shouldn't be doing this; _they_ shouldn't be doing this. She broke the kiss, backed away, her mind still reeling, her lips still tingling. Oh, that was nice, that could become addicting.

He blinked at her. "Why…why did you…"

"I'm a scavenger. _I_ take what I want."

And then, while she still had the element of surprise, she turned and dashed away. Luke, Chewie and Artoo were already in the Falcon, engines running, when she ran up the ramp. She felt the ship lift off as soon as she smacked the button to close the doors.

* * *

Hope it was okay. Like I said, the rest of this story will be a little rough, but hopefully it will make sense.

'Pepper pretzel' is what I found on Wookiepedia when I looked to see if pretzels existed in SW (for the 'twist my body into a pretzel' metaphor).

E chu ta: Apparently it's a pretty bad Hutt curse, and I wanted Leia to say something that would really shock Anakin, and this seemed to work.

Thank you for reading and sticking with this story!


	35. 35 - Destiny

_So, this will be the final update for this story. It's very rough and incomplete, but I've lost my motivation, muse, whatever with this story, but at the same time I can't stand leaving it hanging and unfinished, especially since I wrote the end almost first and it was sort of why I wrote the rest of the story. I'll still be writing other things, I just feel a need to finish this in some way. There should have been about five more chapters, so I'll give a bit of explanatory summary in between the sections I've got written here. I'm so sorry that this isn't the complete, polished version I intended, but please accept this in the spirit it's given – to end the story and have a sense of closure and satisfaction, and to save Ben Solo and let Leia get the satisfaction she never will now in the actual movies._

 _This section picks up right after last chapter:_

* * *

LUKE

He set the _Falcon_ down gently in the bare circular depression, sand billowing up around the ship in dusty clouds.

He hadn't been back here in years – decades – but as he had sat in the pilot's chair, hand hovering over the computer, mind scrambling for a hyperspace lane to program in, Chewie roaring _HURRY_ , Rey's steps pounding up the ramp, he settled on the first set of coordinates that came to mind.

Tatooine. Mos Eisley. Home.

Even though he had never left the planet in his youth, he had known the coordinates by heart, had imagined flying away, going on adventures, and then swooping back into the spaceport, cheeks pink, eyes shining, flush with excitement and success.

Well, things didn't always work out the way you thought they would.

But his mind had grabbed onto those coordinates, that long lost memory, and that's where they ended up.

"Where are we?" Rey asked, peering through the large windows at an environment that was both foreign and familiar.

"Tatooine."

She lifted her eyebrows.

"My home world,'" he elaborated. "We should be safe here. For now." He unbuckled his harness and climbed out of the chair, bending and unbending his knees several times to work the stiffness out. He opened the ramp and stepped out into the glaring brightness of the planet's twin suns, lifting a hand to shield his eyes. Chewie followed, then Artoo, then Rey.

She squinted. "I thought we would go back to the Resistance."

"We will. Once we find out where they are. D'Qar was compromised; I'm sure they've evacuated."

Chewie lifted his chin and added, _/I will make sure the ship is clean. We do not want to be followed./_

Luke nodded, patted the Wookiee on the shoulder. "Thanks, buddy. Assuming we haven't been tracked here, I know a place we can stay until we can make contact with the Resistance. We'll go rent some speeders. Artoo, stay with the ship and help Chewie."

The droid gave a disappointed beep, but did as he was directed.

REY

She followed Luke down the dusty street, past small sand-colored structures with thick walls and rounded roofs. Peeks into the dim interiors showed stairways leading down, rooms opening out beneath the surface. She instantly recognized the practicality of the construction; the light color would reflect the sunlight, the thick walls would provide insulation, and the underground rooms would be naturally cooler. Tatooine reminded her of Jakku, but much older. This place felt permanent, built to last, whereas everything on Jakku felt temporary and thrown together.

They had little trouble renting two speeders, no questions asked, thanks to a bit of mild Force persuasion; the speeders were clunky, ugly things, one the dun-yellow of nerf crap and the other so rusty its original color was undiscernible, but Luke and Rey both gave them a once-over and were satisfied that they were mechanically sound.

Chewbacca and Artoo pronounced the Falcon clean, having swept it twice for tracking devices, and so they loaded the speeders with supplies, locked the ship and headed out across the dunes, Luke leading.

 _They hide out at Luke's old farm for a while, and he reminisces, tells Rey more about his family._

ANAKIN

He couldn't help grinning. Leia had five datapads hovering at eye level. Just above them, the display from the holoprojector flickered. She flicked a finger and the display shifted, made a pinching and releasing gesture with her fingers and it zoomed in. "So we're looking at this area," she said, as the map enlarged. "We've narrowed Snoke's location to these three planets…"

Later, when they were alone, he said, "I'm glad you aren't you afraid of using the Force anymore."

She met his eyes. "I am afraid. But I decided to do it anyway. For Ben."

He didn't think he could have been any prouder of her than he was in that moment.

 _Leia's training goes quite well. She is, not surprisingly, quite adept with both the Force and a lightsaber. Plus, she gets to know her father, not as Darth Vader, but as Anakin Slywalker, who shares her intensity and her sarcasm and her snarky sense of humor._

REY

She needed help. Serious help. Never mind the whole Jedi-non-attachment-maybe-celibacy thing; that was the least of her problems. But who could she talk to? Luke? What, just blurt out, during meditation, "So, Master Luke, I've decided to sorta flirt with the Dark Side while simultaneously trying to drag your nephew's ass back from it, but what I really need help with right now is how to stop picturing him naked and making up horrible innuendos about his 'light saber'." Yeah, that would go well.

 _She doesn't talk to Luke, but she does continue the Force bond visits with Kylo. They get to know each other, connect emotionally, and there's some kissing, but it's all pretty innocent. They're both thoroughly inexperienced in this story, and things move slowly. Eventually Luke, Rey, Chewie and Artoo make it to the new Resistance base, but, for some reason I never quite figured out, they don't tell Rey the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth (I wrote myself into a corner here, so supply your own Obi-Wan type reason why they keep her in the dark – maybe Luke decides if they tell her it will ruin any chance for it to work)._

 _Meanwhile, she and Kylo have managed to meet in person, secretly. Well, sort of secretly. Force Ghosts are nosy. Here's that scene:_

OBI-WAN

Obi-Wan did not like where Anakin's grandson's hands were. Not at all. "What's he doing?"

Anakin cut his eyes at his friend. "If you don't know, you've been dead way too long."

Obi-Wan glared at Anakin. "Well, make him stop!"

"Wha – no! This is good. The light is growing in him."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "I don't think _that's_ what's growing."

The couple was kissing now, messy, wet kissing, with tongues, their bodies pressed together. Little grunts and moans escaped both of them.

Anakin glared. "Maybe that too, but he cares about her. Deeply. He'll follow her back into the light."

"If you say so." Obi-Wan wasn't convinced.

Rey broke the kiss.

"Finally," Obi-Wan said. Then she grinned at the boy, shrugged out of her vest, took one of his large hands and placed it on her breast. "It's okay. You can touch me," she whispered, and he squeezed and moaned.

Obi-Wan cringed. "Aww, hell no! If you won't stop it, at the very least we shouldn't _watch_ it," he said, grabbing Anakin and dragging him back across the barrier between living and dead. He would beg Yoda to wipe his memory of the last fifteen minutes. Surely the Jedi master would understand.

 _You can decide how far that went, but Anakin was right; they care deeply for each other, and the light is growing in Kylo/Ben. Not enough for him to follow Rey back to the Resistance yet, but it's there. Rey is now back at the Resistance base and she has to face Leia without blushing so hard she explodes._

LEIA

Coming around a corner, face down in her datapad, Leia almost collided with Rey. A Rey with a faraway look in her eyes and a wide, goofy grin on her face.

A soft breeze wafted across the flight line, lifting the tendrils of hair that framed Rey's face, and for a moment, Leia was reminded of a night, so long ago:

Too much adrenaline.

Too much Ewok moonshine.

Too much Han.

Ben.

He hadn't been conceived that night – despite what people thought – although he could have been. But Leia had always been ultra-careful about birth control.

But she felt him, his presence, and she knew he was the reason Rey was smiling like that. Leia sighed. She really needed to talk to the girl, but Luke still insisted that telling her the truth would ruin whatever was developing between Rey and her son.

 _Some time passes. The bond between Rey and Kylo grows, and Luke and Leia finally can't ignore it. Luke still won't let them tell Rey the whole truth, but they've decided it's time to implement their plan._

LEIA

"You know I've always thought of you as a daughter."

Rey smiled, looked at her hands. "Thank you. That means a lot to me," she said. "I…I appreciate how you've taken me in, made me feel like I belong."

"You do, dear. You have a home here, with the Resistance, with me. But I need a favor. I'd like for you to set up a meeting."

Rey bit her lip. "Meeting? Me? I'm not exactly good at that kind of thing. You are."

"You're the only one who can set up this meeting." Leia smiled, tremulous and hopeful. "The next time you see my son, tell him I would like to speak with him."

Rey stared, eyes round, mouth open. "How…"

"I had a long talk with my father. But I think I knew, before that."

Rey's eyes widened, her hands fluttered, her mouth opened and closed as she searched for words.

"Shhh," Leia soothed. "I know, and I approve. In fact, there's something I'd like to do to prove it. There's an Aderaanian commitment ceremony – when a couple pledges themselves, their mothers each bestow a token on their child's chosen one…"

"I…I'm not sure…it's not exactly like we've talked about where we stand or a future or…"

"It doesn't matter. I can see it in your eyes. Feel it in the Force. It's painfully obvious. Whatever happens, it happens to both of you. Now, let me do this. Han and I didn't get to do it, because none of our parents were alive, and I don't know who or where your parents are, but I'm here."

Rey gulped, nodded.

"The mother chooses a token, something special, usually jewelry." She removed the ornate, swirling gold and blue ring from her finger, took Rey's hand, and slid the ring on her finger.

"Then the mother says, 'Let this symbol serve as proof…' and the child repeats."

Rey licked her lips. "Let this symbol serve as proof…"

"That I will be…"

"That I will be…:"

Leia continued: "Forever your family."

Tears were rolling down Rey's cheeks now, but she was smiling. "Forever your family."

Leia held Rey's hand in both of hers, and the ring seemed to glow with warmth as Leia's Force flowed into it. "There, now no one can take it off of you."

Rey was crying openly now. "Thank you."

Leia was crying too. "No. Thank you."

 _I made up the ceremony – it's not from anything canon, but Alderaan was matriarchical, so I thought it worked. Unfortunately, Rey never gets to set up that meeting, because the Resistance base is attached by the First Order (without Kylo's knowledge) right after this scene. And here's the end that I've been trying to get to all along._

KYLO

He was kneeling in the stone chamber, in front of not just the Supreme Leader's hologram, but his master himself, and his master was not pleased.

"What am I to do with you, Kylo Ren?"

He kept his head bowed, eyes on the floor. "Master?" He asked, attempting to sound confused.

Snoke snorted. "Do not feign shock with me." His voice softened, became low and sibilant. "My most promising pupil. So gifted, so skillful. So conflicted."

"Master, I…"

" _Silence_. That conflict had a certain value in the beginning, but it has long outlived its usefulness. It is a weakness now, one you seem powerless to overcome. I thought, with my guidance, my training, you would succeed in embracing the dark side fully and reach your full potential, but that pull to the light…it has been _tediously_ hard to kill. Murdering Han Solo did not strengthen you as it should have. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to move things forward. After all, you are my most talented apprentice. So far."

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists. Another task, another test. What would it be this time? He lifted his face, met his master's cold eyes. "Supreme Leader. What must I do?" Even as he said the words, he felt himself rebel against them.

"Your mother…"

He stiffened. No, he would not, would not, would not…not even if Snoke killed him where he stood…

"…would also not have the desired effect. There is, however, someone else…" Snoke raised a hand and a set of doors opened. Two Stormtroopers stepped through the door and between them…

"Rey!" He shot to his feet, moved toward her – and felt himself frozen in place.

She met his eyes, and hers were full of fear and regret as she watched him strain against the Force hold.

Snoke steepled his fingers. "Oh, yes, I know about your little girlfriend. Did you truly think you could deceive me? And I know that she is what is feeding that pesky light."

Kylo glared at Snoke. "I will not harm her, not matter what you do to me."

His master regarded him, long and slow, searching, deciding. "I believe you. Therefore, it seems the time has come for me to take a new apprentice."

REY

She was terrified, but she wouldn't show it. She had learned as a child never to show fear, and she didn't, even as she felt like she might suffocate from the dark power engulfing the being sitting in the center of the room. The darkness she had felt from Kylo, even the first time she met him, was a bright summer day next to _this_.

Rey snarled, struggled to free herself from the troopers despite the shock binders that burned her wrists. "I'll never be your apprentice! And I'll never hurt Kylo."

"We shall see. Come closer, my dear."

She struggled, stomping on the top of one trooper's foot, lashing out with elbows and feet and forehead, managing to connect with a faceplate and a shin guard, but the troopers dragged her closer until she was half a meter from Snoke's face. She swore in several languages and then spit at him.

"Oh, I can see what fascinated you so, Kylo Ren. She has infinite potential. So much anger. So much pure perfect fury." He turned his withering gaze toward Rey. "As your master, I will teach you to hone it, sharpen it, _use_ it."

She stopped thrashing, lifted her face to meet Snoke's eyes. "I prefer to think for myself, thank you." Her voice was calm and steady.

And then Snoke smiled, and it sent cold shivers down her spine. "You actually believe you control your own destiny." He laughed – a hissing sound that seemed to crawl all over her skin.

"I do. And I have been since I was this big." She held her bound hands at waist level.

"Pretty lies are the easiest to believe, girl," Snoke hissed. "But they're no less lies."

Rey frowned, drawing her eyebrows together. "What lies?"

"Your destiny is not your own. The light has been controlling you since you were an infant."

Now Rey laughed. "Oh, I guess that's why I had such a perfect childhood."

He sneered. " _This_ is what your life could have been."

A vision: She resisted, but the images came, anyway. She saw herself, growing up in a real home, with three little brothers, a sister, a father and …Mum! Her mother – a face she had long ago forgotten, dear and sweet and hovering in her vision as a tear rolled down Rey's cheek. Mum. She saw herself, growing up, never feeling the gnawing pain of hunger or loneliness. Living on a fertile planet as beautiful as a painting, with streams and flowers and trees swaying the breeze, surrounded by those who loved her. She saw herself, a young woman with softer curves to her face and body, shinier hair, clean manicured nails, married to a polite man with a shy smile. A life of ease. A life of abundance.

She shook her head. "No, no, no, that's not real. You're just making it up."

"Search your feelings, You'll see it's true. But then someone decided to change it, to link your destiny with that of _Ben Solo_."

She saw a man, a Force ghost.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your great-uncle. _A great Jedi_ ," Snoke explained, sarcasm dripping from his words.

This ghost Obi-Wan Kenobi was looking at her as a toddler in a field of flowers, saying _I'm so sorry, Rey_ , and telling Mum – oh, it was her mum,, she knew it - to send her the Jedi Academy. And then – ripples in the Force, this one thing affecting so many others – but mostly affecting her. She saw the massacre at the Jedi Academy, saw herself, running as fast as her tiny feet could go to escape. Saw him, Ben, the boy with the black hair, standing over her with the crackling red lightsaber, telling her to run. Saw herself hiding in the jungle. Saw herself being bundled into a ship, saw the ship leaving, heard herself screaming. _Come back, come back!_

Snoke laughed again. "They dumped you on a junkyard planet like so much trash. Left you to survive if you could, die if you couldn't. All because of him." A bony spectral finger pointed at Kylo Ren, still frozen and fuming, unable to even speak. "All of your suffering – it was all so they could try to save _him_."

She screamed. The Force – the Jedi – her great-uncle – they had stolen her life. She had been manipulated, played, used like a piece in a game.

KYLO

Kylo Ren was watching her carefully. Very carefully. He had been silent in her head through all this, but now he reached out, tentative and cautious. _Rey? You know what he's doing, right? You know he's trying to goad you, set us against one another._

She let out a string of invective, laced with curses in three languages and ending with the suggestion that the entire galaxy should suck sweaty Bantha balls.

His face twitched. _While I admire your talent for swearing, I recommend you bring it down about 7000 notches if you hope to survive this._

 _Don't do that. Don't try to be charming. You can go suck sweaty Bantha balls too. It must be nice for you, huh? To be the fracking crown prince of everything, so fracking special that the Force itself takes a personal interest_.

He felt her anger, familiar and beautiful, spreading, glowing, like a fire. But like a fire, it could easily get out of control and consume them all.

 _Please. Think._

 _My life was stolen!_ She shouted into his brain. Tears spilled from her eyes.

 _I know._

And then he felt something – something she had felt for him – pity. The rage wall grew.

He realized his mistake. Of course she would hate his pity as he hated hers.

 _I don't need your pity or condescension, your Highness._ She looked at the ceiling, the walls, as if searching for something invisible. _He's everything and I'm nothing. I got it, Force. Message received, loud and clear._

Her binders fell away and she lunged at him, giving him a hard shove. He fell back, but the Force hold was broken.

 _It was all about YOU! Always YOU and never ME!_ A wall of rage rolled off her.

He rolled away as she flung a hand out to send a Force push toward him. She was all sound and fury but no control, her grip on the Force sloppy, but she was spiraling away – her thoughts slowly being blotted out by a red tidal wave of hatred that he knew would give her an edge. He had to get through before the hate and rage took over.

Snoke leaned forward, breathing heavily."Yessss."

 _Rey! Stop!_

 _Why? Because YOU say so? Because you're so kriffing important and I'm nothing? I'm not nothing!_

 _No, you're everything. To me._ It was a hopeless whisper in her mind, almost lost in the turmoil.

She closed the distance between them, hand outstretched, fingers squeezing. _I'll be more powerful than you ever were!_

He shuddered. Snokes words – he had heard them often enough in his own mind, from his own lips. He clutched at his throat, clawing at the imaginary fingers there.

 _Rey, He's twisting your perception. Because anyone hearing that with a clear mind could not fail to realize who the victim is, and who the hero is. You are the most important person in all of this. And I am weak, helpless, useless._

An agony of self-loathing swirled around him, black and dense and dragging him down, down. He knew she sensed his feelings, felt his despair, his shame, and some small part of her struggled to care, but she just couldn't, couldn't quite manage because it was his fault, his fault, his fault and she was no hero she was a pawn, she was cannon fodder thrown at him without any regard for her own life and he dared to stand there and feel sorry for himself? Rage burned through her veins and she was drunk, drunk with rage and misery and hate.

He felt it, what he had felt for years, his baseline, but it was coming from her, and he felt all the thoughts, chaotic and furious and painful fluttering around in her brain, and he felt…

Not pity. Compassion. Weakness, yes – and if that was his part to play, so be it, but right now…right now his hero needed a bit of saving herself. And perhaps, finally, in the end, he _would_ be just like his grandfather.

 _Kriff. Are all heroes so infernally whiny_? He asked, pushing at her mind as she tightened her fingers.

 _Shut up, your royal specialness, and be still so I can kill you._

 _Rey. Stop this!_

 _Why? I want my life! I want my mother!_ She clenched viciously, making him see black spots at the edge of his vision. _I want my mother!_

 _So do I._

She paused, and some of the rage receded. _Your mother. I…promised._

Her grip loosened and he gasped in air.

 _My life was never my own_. She was still, panting from the exertion, lip quivering.

 _Welcome to the club._

Their eyes met, and the red tide receded a bit more, but didn't go away.

 _Rey, I understand. Believe me, more than anyone, but think about it. Would you really have preferred that life?_

 _Knowing my mum? Yes!_

He looked at her, his eyes delving into hers.

 _Yes, that, but the rest of it. Really look at it. Touch it. Taste it._

Reluctantly, she did. She slipped into other-Rey, and found her body soft and weak, her mind dull and disconnected. The Force was dormant in her and her mind was placid and…lonely. No one else in there. Other-Rey was content and cloyingly sweet. Her life tasted as bland as a pudding.

He smiled, a small victory. _Now, do the same thing with this life._

She dipped into parts of her real life. Jakku. Sand and thirst and hunger had made her strong, had honed her until she had an edge as sharp as a knife. Her body and mind thrummed; she had power, purpose, passion. Her current life felt like snowflakes and sparks melting against her skin in a forest; smelled like the hot, sulfurous, metal of deep space and the welcoming warmth of caffa when she returned, tasted like a drink of cold water after a day in the burning desert, like the salt on Kylo's skin when she brushed her lips against it. Her gaze lingered on him. Kylo Ren. Ben. The image of Other-Rey's husband flickered into her vision: hair the color of butter, face as malleable as dough, no Force presence at all, and the word _settled_ floated in her mind, and _convenient_. Real Rey would never settle. Loneliness had taught her to be independent, to not need anyone. Better to be alone than to be with someone that was anything but (her mind rebelled but the thought came anyway) part of me; the other half of me. Other-Rey had socially expected marital relations once a week, when she couldn't get out of it. Real Rey wanted to kiss every inch of Kylo's body, and let him do the same to her.

 _Here?_ His voice was less strained, almost teasing.

 _Well, maybe we should kill him first_. She smirked.

He breathed again. She was back.

The whole thing had taken place in an instant, but now she was back, in the room, in real time. Snoke was speaking, unaware of what had transpired between the two, their bond private, secret, theirs alone.

"So, now you know, girl. What do you think of the Force, of the Jedi, of the light, now?"

She dropped her hand, releasing Kylo. "I think…I think I want to say thank you. To the Force, to the light and the dark, to my great uncle. To this man's poor, misguided grandfather. I want to say thank you. Thank you for giving me…"

Snoke sputtered. "What? You're glad you suffered?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I. Was. Talking. Hasn't anyone ever told you it's _rude_ to interrupt? Yes. Thank you for every horror, every ordeal, every misery, because they're what gave me the life I have now, and it is so much better, so much more. In fact," she smirked, "I guess I should thank _you_ , as well. After all, you created him," she gestured to Kylo, "my perfect other half."

Kylo Ren stared at her for a second, blinked and seemed to remember something. His lightsaber was in his hand in an instant, hissing and crackling, and he charged at his former master. Rey snatched a blaster from one of her Stormtrooper guards, sent them both tumbling across the room and into the wall with a hard Force push, and followed Kylo, shooting wildly.

Snoke held up both hands; the air seemed to sizzle, the slight smell of ozone flooding the hall as light flickered and coalesced near his fingertips. Kylo shoved Rey behind him, blocked the Force lightning with his saber, but it still knocked them across the room.

Snoke stood, stalked toward them, sneering. "Did you really think you could defeat me? A weak boy and an insignificant girl? You'll both die and I will…I will…"

They never found out what he would do, because something clamped around his throat, cutting off not only sound but most breath, leaving only a gurgling in the back of his throat.

"I'm sure they could have, but I'm glad I didn't miss the whole party." General Leia Organa, elegant and slightly terrifying, stood just inside the now-open doors, left hand outstretched, fingers curled, energy – light with just the tiniest hint of dark – flowing around her.

Kylo Ren, terror of the galaxy, stared, open mouthed. "Mother?"

She glanced at him. "Close your mouth, Ben. Mommy's busy."

Snoke writhed, trying to break the Force choke.

Leia smiled. "Don't struggle. It'll just make it worse. And it won't help. I was taught by the best. By the way, Darth Vader would like for you to cease and desist using his name; he does not endorse you. And he asked me to give you something." She swung the blue light saber out from behind her back in a smooth, twirling arc.

Snoke collapsed back onto his stone dais, wheezing, struggling to speak. "Leia Organa. I would never have expected…you. Your…brother maybe… but you?"

"Yeah, people tend to underestimate me. Big mistake." She smiled, and it was an icy thing. "Huge." She continued holding her left hand out, fingers clenched in a claw-like grip, as she brought the lightsaber clutched in her right hand closer to his throat.

"You would murder a defenseless old man? For revenge?" He gasped.

"Murder? Revenge? Oh, no. I'm here on behalf of the New Republic Senate, or what's left of it…seventeen sentients. They convened a special session; the vote was unanimous. I've been authorized to use any necessary and appropriate force to capture or kill the individual responsible for the destruction of the Hosnian system. That would be you. This is not an assassination, this is not personal, this is not emotional. This is a military operation. So," she lifted an eyebrow, "do you surrender?"

"Neverrrrr," he hissed.

"Don't say I didn't give you a choice." The lightsaber swung in a single smooth arc, cleanly separating Snoke's head from his body.

Kylo and Rey both gasped. They were kneeling, holding one another.

Leia turned to them, hurried the where they were.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Y-yes," Rey said, her voice shaking.

"Ben?" Leia's voice was the one shaking now.

He looked up, eyes meeting hers before the dropped to the floor.

Rey reached up, touched his face. "How are you? How do you feel?" She asked.

He shook his head, eyes still on the floor. "I'm…confused. Everything I thought…I was wrong. And I realized it…I've been realizing it, gradually ever since…" His voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes. "But I couldn't do anything, I couldn't break away. Now, now I feel free."

"Free from the Dark?"

"I think, yes, mostly. I'm still…still myself. I can't undo what I've done, who I am." He tucked a lock of hair behind Rey's ear, still not meeting his mother's gaze; focusing on Rey seemed to steady him. "But I feel like I can choose. Like I can actually make my own decisions for the first time in my life"

"And what do you choose?" Rey asked.

They all knew what she meant. Light or Dark. Ben or Kylo Ren. But he answered, "I choose you."

They held each other close, swaying a little, slumped together, trying to regain the strength to stand.

He glanced up at Leia, only briefly, unable to fully face her. "Thank you, mother. I…I can never make up for…for…"

"Shhh," she said. "I've forgiven you. So has your father."

Han's Force ghost shimmered into existence behind Leia. "That doesn't mean you don't have some serious work to do to make up for it, kid. But I think if you spend the next decade or so helping your mother track down the rest of the First Order, that might be a start. Oh, and marry that girl before she comes to her senses and realizes she can do better."

He just blinked. His father, well, his father's Force Ghost – and how was Han Solo a Force Ghost anyway - was _teasing_ him.

 _Meanwhile, Luke, Chewie, Finn, Poe and the rest of the Resistance have been fighting the First Order so Leia could infiltrate Snoke's chamber. They managed to capture Hux and Phasma, and, realizing that their leadership was gone, the rest of the First Order officers and troopers surrendered. Anakin, with the help of the rest of the Force Ghosts, was dealing with Palpatine's dark side spirit, making sure he didn't help Snoke._

REY

They were back on the Falcon now, having all agreed that they wanted to get out of Snoke's chambers as quickly as possible. Luke and Chewie were doing the flying, plotting hyperspace coordinates that would take them back to the Resistance base, which was still operational, the attack having been wholly focused on capturing Rey.

"How did you find us? After they attacked the base and kidnapped me?" Rey asked.

Leia lifted Rey's hand, tapped the ring. "It was what I said it was. But I also had a tracker put in it," she said. "Anakin warned me that Snoke might try something like this."

"Grandfather?" Kylo – Ben - said. He still seemed to be a bit in shock, and was clutching a cup of rehydrated broth in both hands as he sat at the dejarik table with Rey on one side and his mother on the other.

Leia patted his arm. "That reminds me, would you like to finally meet him?"

He nodded.

She smiled. "Dad? You done dealing with the Emperor?"

Anakin shimmered into existence, gave a lopsided smile. "Done and _done_. Damn, I'm tired of having to kill that bastard. But I think he's gone for good now." He turned to his grandson. "Ben. I've been trying to reach you for so long. And I've just got one thing to say."

"Yes Grandfather?"

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

Ben bit his lip, his voice shaking. "I…I.."

Anakin grinned. "Lighten up, kid. I'm just giving you a hard time. You took a wrong turn, but you're back now. I knew you would be. I mean, if I could do it, I knew you could. And you did, by the way, way before your mother showed up. I felt it, what you did for the girl, what you were _willing_ to do for her," he gestured at Rey. "That's when you came back."

Ben exhaled.

"Wait, what…what did you mean? What was he willing to do for me?" Rey asked, glancing at Anakin (and trying to pretend talking to dead people was totally normal).

Anakin cut his eyes toward his grandson. "Do you want to tell her, or should I?"

Ben shook his head, too choked with emotion to speak.

"He decided…and I felt it when it happened…that he would sacrifice himself to save you, from death, from the dark side. He didn't have to, in the end, because we all showed up, but he was willing and that…that was when the dark side lost him."

Rey turned her face up to Kylo, eyes shiny with tears. "You saved me."

He shook his head, unable to drag his gaze away from her, his fingers trailing along her cheek. "No, you're the one that saved me. Just by existing." He leaned down and kissed her, a soft, gentle kiss, but with the promise of more behind it.

Han's ghost let out a loud sigh. "Oh, for Force's sake, get a room."

Leia shushed him. "Leave them alone. We were young and couldn't keep our hands off each other once. Remember?"

Han waggled his eyebrows. "I remember that happening last night, when I met you in that dream about Hoth and we did what we both wished we had done when we were really there."

Kylo and Anakin both made identical, disgusted faces, while Leia and Rey just laughed.

 _And they lived happily, if a little dysfunctionally, ever after. The end._

* * *

 _It wasn't as fully developed as I intended, but I hope this ending is at a least a little satisfying. Thank you to everyone who stuck with this story all along. I'm sorry I sort of lost my way with it, but I did the main thing I wanted, which was let Leia kill Snoke, personally, and get Ben back._


End file.
